3  1822  01036  2473 


UNIVERSITY  9f 
CALIFORhOA 

SAN  DW69  *- 


I 


!  6037  0757  15  1921 


3  1822  01036  2473 


PR 


015-7 

is- 


I N  THE  CLAWS  OF  THE  DRAGON 


NEW  BORZOI  FICTION 
SPRING  1921 

PAN,  by  Knut  Hamsun 
ZELL,  by  Henry  G.  Aikman 
HOWARDS  END,  by  E.  M.  Forster 
DEBATABLE  GROUND,  by  G.  B.  Stern 
THE  WINE  OF  LIFE,  by  Arthur  Stringer 
GROWTH  OF  THE  SOIL,  by  Knut  Hamsun 
THE  HOUSE  BY  THE  RIVER,  by  A.  P.  Herbert 
BLISS,  AND  OTHER  STORIES,  by  Katherine  Mansfield 


IN  THE  CLAWS  OF  THE  DRAGON 

BY  GEORGE  SOULIE  DE  MORANT 


NEW  YORK 

ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 

1921 


COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 


PRINTED   IN    THH    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 


I 


EALLY,  these  Westerners  are  not  reasonable 
beings!"  said  the  Duke  of  Krong,  Ambas- 
sador of  China  in  France,  to  his  First  Secretary,  Ming- 
ni,  Viscount  of  Lin. 

The  Ambassador  was  fat,  as  became  a  Chinese  dig- 
nitary of  his  rank,  his  Wealth,  and  his  age.  His  long 
eyes  were  always  half  shut,  as  if  to  sharpen  his  vision. 
A  few  stiff  hairs,  scattered  over  the  lower  parts  of  his 
round  face,  did  duty  as  a  beard. 

He  was  receiving  the  guests  for  the  inauguration  of 
his  newly  built  Chinese  palace  in  the  Rue  de  Babylon ; 
and  he  examined  them  critically. 

"Look  at  the  costumes  of  the  barbarians!"  he  con- 
tinued. "Can  you  imagine  anything  more  uncom- 
fortable, hideous,  and  ridiculous?  or,  I  must  add, 
more  shockingly  immodest?  The  men  display  their 
shirts:  think  of  that!  What  should  you  say  if  we 
displayed  our  shirts?  And  that  absurd  black  waist- 
coat with  a  tail,  which  they  call  an  evening  coat!  The 
men  look  exactly  like  those  white-breasted  black  fowl 
of  the  Polar  seas,  the  penguins." 

"It  certainly  could  not  be  much  worse,"  assented 
Ming-ni.  "But  their  every-day  costumes  are  not  so 
bad." 

[7] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Yes,"  sneered  the  Duke,  "their  hard  collars,  four 
or  five  inches  high!  I  tell  you,  a  whole  population 
which  dresses  like  that  is  not  led  by  Reason,  but  by 
the  wildest  and  lowest  impulses." 

Ming-ni's  face  became  expressionless.  He  did  not 
over-much  enjoy  these  remarks:  he  had  to  recognize 
that  they  were  perfectly  just  and  sensible,  but  still 
they  touched  only  a  very  small  part  of  a  civilization 
which,  after  ten  years  of  study,  he  had  learned  to  un- 
derstand. 

The  Duke,  like  many  European  diplomats,  could 
not  speak  or  read  a  word  in  the  language  of  the  coun- 
try to  which  he  had  been  accredited  as  Ambassador. 
That  did  not  prevent  his  being  confident,  like  those 
same  diplomats,  that  he  possessed  a  complete  and  im- 
mediate knowledge  of  the  population  with  which  he 
had  no  direct,  and  very  little  indirect,  contact.  He 
relied  on  his  First  Secretary  to  do  all  the  work,  and 
disagreed  politely  but  firmly  with  him  about  every 
detail  which  involved  the  "men  of  the  Ocean." 
Ming-ni,  then,  put  on  the  face  of  a  statue,  which  indeed 
he  resembled  anyway,  thanks  to  his  thin  straight  nose, 
his  firm  mouth,  and  his  even,  colourless  complexion. 

"And  the  women!"  resumed  the  Duke  vindictively. 
"More  than  half  naked!  showing  their  shoulders  to 
everybody!  Oh!  there  is  next  to  nothing  between 
them  and  the  nakedness  of  savages.  In  the  heat  of 
summer,  that  would  be  reasonable  enough,  though 
rather  primitive — but  in  winter!  And  yet  they  would 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


be  frightfully  shocked  if  the  men  went  round  half 
naked,  as  they  do  themselves." 

Ming-ni  was  saved  the  trouble  of  answering  by 
the  arrival  of  another  group  of  guests.  These,  ap- 
proaching, held  out  their  hands  to  their  host;  but  the 
old  man  merely  kept  his  fists  close  to  each  other  and 
waved  them  up  and  down  two  or  three  times,  accord- 
ing to  the  Chinese  custom.  The  visitors,  a  little  at  a 
loss,  bowed  awkwardly  and  moved  away. 

"They  ought  to  know  that  we  civilized  folk  do  not 
shake  hands.  A  dirty  and  stupid  custom,"  grumbled 
the  Ambassador. 

Just  then  came  two  ladies.  The  elder,  evidently 
the  mother,  addressed  Ming-ni  in  a  tone  which  be- 
trayed a  certain  consciousness  of  her  own  importance. 
"Excuse  me,  Monsieur,"  she  said.  "You  speak 
French,  do  you  not?" 

"Yes,  Madame,"  he  answered. 

"My  friend  who  was  to  present  us  to  His  Excel- 
lency is  not  here,  and  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  the  Duke  before.  It  seems  a  trifle  awkward 
for  us  to  be  under  his  roof  in  the  circumstances. 
May  I  ask  you  to  introduce  us?  Baroness  and  Made- 
moiselle de  Rosen." 

"Assuredly,  Madame,"  said  Ming-ni,  with  a  slight 
bow.  Then,  turning  toward  the  Ambassador,  he  said 
in  Chinese:  "0  Duke,  0  Great  Man!  here  are  two 
women  who  desire  to  have  their  names  mentioned  lo 
your  distinguished  ears." 

[9] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Never  mind  their  names,  0  Elder  Brother,"  re- 
plied the  old  man.  "I  can  never  catch  these  bar- 
barous noises." 

The  elder  lady  bowed  majestically  and  with  an  im- 
perious air  proffered  her  hand.  The  Duke  answered 
by  a  meaningless  smile  and  once  more  flourished  his 
fists.  But  the  lady,  not  satisfied  with  that,  continued 
to  offer  her  hand.  Overcome  by  such  insistence,  the 
Ambassador  diffidently  gave  her  his  plump  fingers, 
leaving  them,  however,  for  no  more  than  a  second  at 
her  disposal. 

The  younger  lady,  who  had  noticed  his  reluctance, 
merely  made  a  curtsey.  "A  sensible  girl,"  said  the 
old  man,  relieved.  "Take  her  into  the  other  room 
and  give  her  some  sweets  or  cakes;  these  Western 
women  are  even  fonder  of  them  than  our  own  women- 
folk. Do  you  remember  that  last  reception  of  ours? 
Three  of  these  helpless  creatures  were  caught  in  the 
rush  when  the  door  to  the  dining-room  was  opened. 
They  were  crushed  and  fainted,  and  we  had  all  we 
could  do  to  revive  them." 

The  young  lady's  grey-blue  eyes  were  turned  on 
Ming-ni  with  unmistakable  admiration  and  sympathy. 
Her  fair  hair  and  delicately  pink-and-white  complex- 
ion enhanced  her  beauty  of  feature.  But  the  dic- 
tates of  Confucius  enjoin  men  from  looking  at  women 
not  of  their  own  family.  "What  the  eyes  see  not, 
the  heart  desireth  not."  Ming-ni,  demurely  averting 

[10] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


his  eyes,  obeyed  the  order  of  his  superior  with  the 
same  impassive  countenance. 

"May  I  now  introduce  myself?"  he  said.  "I  am 
the  Viscount  of  Lin."  He  bowed  and  shook  hands 
with  the  two  ladies.  "Since  your  friend  is  not  here," 
he  added,  "will  you  not  allow  me  to  conduct  you? 
Should  you  like  to  join  the  dancers  first,  or  to  see  the 
conservatories  ?  " 

He  offered  his  arm  to  the  mother.  She  was  sur- 
prised not  to  detect  in  his  manner  the  hint  of  self- 
denial  to  which  she  was  accustomed  in  young  men  on 
such  occasions.  There  was  not  even  the  glance  of 
regret  which  they  always  involuntarily  gave  her 
daughter. 

"My  friend  tells  me  that  you  have  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  striking  conservatories  in  Paris,"  said  Ma- 
dame de  Rosen. 

"You  shall  judge  our  humble  efforts  for  your- 
self," he  answered.  And  they  mingled  with  the 
crowd. 

The  Duke  of  Krong  had  decided  that  everything  in 
the  Embassy  must  be  Chinese.  All  his  staff  retained 
the  gorgeous  and  flowing  costumes  of  the  East.  All 
the  palace  furniture  was  of  deeply  carved  ebony,  with 
incrustations  of  mother-of-pearl  and  mottled  marble. 
Ancient  pictures,  on  silk  made  brown  by  the  cen- 
turies, covered  the  walls.  Thick  carpets,  with  blue 
boughs  on  a  golden  ground,  brought  from  Yarkend 
or  Khotan,  deadened  the  noise  of  footsteps. 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


The  visitors  behaved  as  in  a  museum,  stopping  be- 
fore the  various  treasures,  admiring  or  criticizing 
aloud.  Many  hardly  restrained  themselves  from  do- 
ing the  same  before  the  young  secretaries  in  their 
glittering  embroidered  robes. 

Ming-ni  walked  on,  erect,  impassive,  and  enigmatic. 
A  two-eyed  peacock  feather  was  inserted  at  the  top  of 
his  hat,  under  the  blue  sapphire  button  which  was  the 
insigne  of  his  rank.  It  trailed  on  his  back  and 
covered  the  beginning  of  his  long,  thick,  and  intensely 
black  plaited  hair — which,  by  the  way,  was  not  his 
own,  for  he  had  had  his  own  hair  cut  short  in  the 
Western  fashion. 

They  traversed  the  crowded  rooms  and,  turning  the 
corner  of  a  passage,  found  themselves  suddenly  in  a 
strikingly  novel  yet  restful  setting.  The  conserva- 
tories consisted  of  several  rooms  intersecting  one  an- 
other at  various  angles.  The  Chinese  gardener,  in- 
stead of  trying  to  realize  a  preconceived  idea  of  the 
schools,  had  given  free  play  to  his  own  fancy  and 
used  to  the  utmost  all  the  opportunities  offered  him. 
Here,  a  glade  curved  among  bamboos.  There,  a  tiny 
mountain  scene  contained  wild  crags  and  a  little  val- 
ley, in  which  a  temple  and  a  pagoda  were  half  hidden 
under  ancient  dwarf  pines.  The  hills  round  about 
were  reflected  in  a  pond  over  whose  surface  nelumbos 
and  nymphaeas  flaunted  their  broad  leaves  and  regal 
flowers.  Cunningly  contrived  gaps  in  the  foliage  and 
shrubbery  allowed  the  beholder  to  see  those  walking 

[12] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


at  the  farthest  point  of  the  conservatories.  The  il- 
lusion of  distance  was  enhanced  by  an  adroit  use  of 
perspective.  Seats  were  fashioned  in  the  most  extra- 
ordinary shapes,  so  as  not  to  give  any  idea  of  their 
actual  size  in  relation  to  the  landscape. 

Madame  de  Rosen  gave  a  little  well-bred  exclama- 
tion of  delight.  "Look,  Monique,"  she  said  to  her 
daughter.  "Those  magnolias!  That  strange  red 
star  of  a  flower!  And  that  pagoda!  I  simply  adore 
it  all." 

"It  is  truly  wonderful,"  said  Mademoiselle  de 
Rosen. 

By  the  time  they  had  reached  the  end  of  the  last 
of  the  conservatories  the  subject  was  exhausted. 
Monique  turned  to  her  escort  and  asked:  "Do  you 
dance?" 

"Oh,  no — I  mean  yes!"  said  Ming-ni,  remembering 
his  duties.  "May  I  ask  you  to  give  me  your  next 
dance?" 

"Certainly,  with  pleasure.  Perhaps  mother  will 
sit  here  and  wait  for  us — won't  you,  mama?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  answered  her  mother  resignedly. 
It  irked  her  to  resume  the  thankless  and  uninteresting 
role  of  chaperon. 

Ming-ni  bowed  to  her  and  offered  his  arm  to  Mon- 
ique. They  two  slowly  retraced  their  steps  toward 
the  orchestra,  from  which  subdued  harmonies  drifted 
lo  their  ears  with  the  sadness  peculiar  to  all  gay  music 
heard  from  afar. 

[13] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Why  did  you  say  'no'  when  I  asked  you  if  you 
danced?"  asked  the  young  girl  suddenly. 

"Why,  are  you  sure  I  said  'no'?"  he  answered  non- 
committally. 

"Quite  sure,"  she  insisted. 

"And  you — do  you  care  for  dancing?  You  do,  of 
course:  every  young  lady  does,"  pursued  the  diplo- 
mat. 

"No !  I  don't  like  dancing  at  all.  Shall  we  sit  down 
somewhere,  then?" 

"With  pleasure." 

The  seat  which  they  found  was  small  for  two, 
though  they  did  not  notice  the  fact  until  they  were 
seated.  Then  neither  ventured  to  remark  upon  it. 
So  they  found  themselves  squeezed  uncomfortably 
against  each  other,  a  position  not  favourable  to  con- 
versation, especially  between  persons  who  are  not 
very  well  acquainted.  They  fell  silent. 

A  faint,  sweet  perfume  awoke  Ming-ni's  attention. 
For  the  first  time  he  stole  a  direct  glance  at  this  lovely 
young  foreigner.  Her  blue-grey  eyes  were  lustrous 
in  the  dimness.  A  mysterious  light  emanated  from 
her  clear  skin.  He  thought  of  the  Duke's  testiness 
on  the  subject  of  low  dresses;  and  inwardly  he  smiled. 
For  his  own  part,  he  did  not  disapprove  of  the  custom 
quite  so  decidedly.  The  result  was  sometimes  worth 
the  tribute  of — to  put  it  mildly — a  passing  glance. 

The  silence  was  still  not  broken  between  them. 
Then,  suddenly,  they  both  broke  it  at  once.  "I 

[14] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


should  like  very  much  to  go  to  China,"  said  she. 
"Should  you  like  to  go  to  China?"  he  asked. 

They  both  laughed  at  the  coincidence  of  thoughts. 

"And  now,"  said  Monique,  "will  you  not  tell  me 
why  you  first  said  'no'  when  I  asked  you  if  you 
danced?  I  will  not  accept  another  evasive  answer," 
she  added,  smiling. 

"Why,  then,"  he  replied  evenly,  "if  you  insist  on 
the  truth,  men  never  dance  in  China.  We  like  well 
enough  to  watch  professional  dancers,  but  we  con- 
sider dancing  as  conducive  to  vanity  and  unseemli- 
ness, not  to  say  immodesty." 

"Not  such  a  false  view,  either,  perhaps,"  mused 
the  girl. 

"Physical  activities  and  all  kinds  of  sports  are  nat- 
urally destructive  to  the  life  of  the  mind,  and  every 
scholarly  person  must  avoid  them,"  he  continued. 
"The  primitive  instincts  and  animal  impulses  are 
strong  enough  already:  they  need  no  training  or  ex- 
ercising. If  we  want  to  rise  above  our  natural  plane 
of  beasts,  we  must  live  most  fully  in  the  spirit." 

"And  is  it  living  in  the  spirit  that  has  made  the 
Ambassador  so  fat?"  asked  Monique  archly. 

He  laughed  and  changed  the  subject.  "I  greatly 
admire  your  beautiful  city,"  he  began. 

"Ah,  but  can  you  find  beauty  in  these  dark,  dirty, 
muddy  streets,  these  rows  of  prison-like  houses  with 
streaks  of  coal-dust  spreading  over  the  walls?" 

"Well,"  he  conceded,  "they  may  be  a  little  lacking 
[15] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


in  form  and  colour  outwardly — even  a  little  gloomy, 
by  comparison  with  our  gayer  palaces  and  houses. 
But  inside  they  are  very  comfortable,  not  to  say  beau- 
tiful. Those  great  halls  such  as  one  finds  in  some  of 
the  residences — " 

"Oh,  don't  remind  me  of  the  great  salons,  with  their 
tawdry  little  five-o'clock  teas!" 

"And  Parisian  society  is  extremly  gay  and  enjoy- 
able," he  went  on,  unabashed. 

"Parisian  society?  Which  part  of  it?  There  is 
hardly  any  such  thing  in  Paris.  Some  persons  col- 
lect a  few  notabilities  and  have  a  salon,  yery  much  as 
certain  bandmasters  compose  a  potpourri  by  piecing 
together  a  few  familiar  tunes.  And  of  course  there 
are  always  good  friendships.  But  can  these  be  called 
'society'?" 

"Whatever  one  calls  them,  these  social  gatherings 
are  by  no  means  disagreeable,"  he  returned  suavely. 

"Oh,  but  do  you  think  so?"  There  was  a  touch  of 
disdain  in  her  manner.  "Conversation  is  reduced  to 
a  few  stereotyped  remarks,  always  on  the  same  sub- 
jects. Even  the  pleasure  of  telling  scandalous  stor- 
ies about  absent  persons  is  more  than  balanced  by  the 
certainty  of  being  libelled  unmercifully  oneself  as 
soon  as  the  door  closes  behind  one." 

"But,  at  least,  it  is  very  easy  to  get  away.  One 
can  go  anywhere,  see  new  things." 

"Yes — but  one  comes  back!  You  see,  to  live  any- 
where but  in  Paris  is  called  by  such  circles  burying 

[16] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


oneself  alive.  To  live  outside  France  is  to  be  an  ab- 
solute exile.  Both  possibilities  are  dreaded  as  if  all 
die  life  and  merit  of  the  whole  world  were  concen- 
trated in  the  little  group  to  which  one  happens  to 
belong." 

"Well,  if  they  believe  that,  it  is  true  so  far  as  they 
are  concerned,  and  that  is  sufficient  for  their  content- 
ment. But  you  seem,  I  should  say,  a  little  disillu- 
sioned. Why  not  go  to  China?  You  would  see  some- 
thing different  from  Paris,  I  can  promise  you!" 

"If  it  is  at  all  like  this  conservatory,  I  would  will- 
ingly live  there  all  my  life.  But  it  could  hardly  be 
the  same  all  over:  China  is  so  immense — " 

"Only  ten  or  twelve  times  as  big  as  France,"  said 
Ming-ni  simply. 

"So  huge  as  that?"  said  the  astonished  girl. 

"And  the  population  is  more  than  thirteen  times  as 
numerous.  But  it  really  is  a  great  deal  like  this  con- 
servatory on  a  large  scale." 

He  began  to  talk  about  his  country.  It  was  noth- 
ing short  of  a  revelation  to  Monique,  to  whom  China 
had  never  been  much  more  than  a  name  in  an  atlas. 
She  vaguely  connected  it  with  the  porcelain  vises, 
screens,  embroideries,  and  other  curios  which  she 
saw  on  so  many  tables  and  mantelpieces;  but  that  was 
all. 

They  were  interrrupted  presently  by  the  Ambassa- 
dor himself,  who,  deprived  of  his  Secretary  and  there- 
fore of  his  sole  means  of  contact  with  his  guests,  had 

[17] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


simply  slipped  away  to  the  conservatories  for  a  little 
quiet. 

"Did  you  give  her  those  sweets?"  he  asked  Ming-ni. 

"We  talked  about  our  country  instead,"  answered 
the  Secretary.  "I  wish  the  Great  Man  could  have 
heard  her  opinion  of  these  people  here  in  the  West." 

"Sensible  girl.  I  told  you,  0  Elder  Brother! 
Beautiful,  too,  in  her  way." 

The  young  girl  coloured  under  the  appraising 
glance  of  the  old  man.  She  felt  as  a  fowl  in  the 
market  might  feel  under  the  significant  scrutiny  of  a 
cook. 

Ming-ni  saved  the  situation.  "His  Excellency  says 
that  I  am  to  conduct  you  to  the  dining-room." 

"Oh,  does  he?"  she  said,  with  slight  relief.  "How 
thoughtful!" 

But  at  that  moment  appeared  Madame  de  Rosen, 
accompanied  by  a  gentleman  who  bowed  to  Monique 
and  claimed  the  dance  just  beginning.  She  shook 
hands  with  Ming-ni  and  went  away.  In  her  manner 
there  was  a  hint  of  frank  regret. 


[18] 


II 

EALLY,  we  might  just  as  well  have  come 
away  earlier,"  said  Madame  de  Rosen  to  her 
daughter.  They  were  on  the  way  home  in  their  motor- 
car. "I  met  only  two  people  we  knew." 

"I  met  them  too,  worse  luck,"  commented  Monique 
succinctly. 

"It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  take  that  attitude," 
said  her  mother  with  some  heat.  "You  go  ahout  and 
do  as  you  please:  you  even  dance  with  people  you 
don't  know.  But  I  can  assure  you  that  it  is  no  fun 
sitting  gloomily  in  a  corner  and  watching  other  people 
enjoying  themselves." 

"Poor  mother,  you  do  have  a  dull  enough  time  of 
it,"  answered  the  girl  contritely. 

"That  garden  really  was  unique,  though,"  said  her 
mother,  satisfied  with  this  indirect  acknowledgment  of 
her  pains.  "And  nobody  would  ever  believe  our  ac- 
count of  it,  more's  the  pity." 

"Isn't  it  wonderful!"  agreed  Monique  eagerly. 
"And  all  those  Chinese  with  their  beautiful  robes. 
And  their  hats!  really  much  nicer  than  top-hats,  you 
know." 

"Somehow  it  reminded  me  of  that  reception  at  St. 
[19] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Cloud,  in  the  second  Empire — the  one  at  which  I  first 
met  your  father." 

"And  you  know,  mother,  China  is  a  very  big  coun- 
try. I  mean,  it  is  much  more  important  than  we 
realize." 

"Possibly,"  answered  her  mother  without  enthusi- 
asm. "It  is  so  far  away:  one  never  knows  the  reality 
of  such  remote  places." 

The  car  stopped  at  their  door.  They  went  quickly 
up  to  their  apartment.  After  a  hasty  kiss  exchanged, 
each  went  into  her  own  room.  Monique  lay  awake 
for  a  long  time.  When  at  last  she  shut  her  eyes,  it 
was  to  dream  of  wondrous  exotic  landscapes.  On  the 
morrow  as  soon  as  she  was  up,  she  looked  along  the 
bookshelves  for  works  on  the  Far  East.  She  found  a 
few,  and  began  to  devour  them. 

At  her  next  dinner  party  she  mentioned  China  to  a 
young  man  who  sat  beside  her,  only  to  be  chilled  by 
his  absolute  unresponsiveness.  He  attempted  a  spicy 
anecdote,  and  was  surprised  in  his  turn  to  see  that 
she  was  not  amused.  She  went  home  very  early  that 
evening;  and  her  next  invitation  she  refused. 

Her  mother  was  incensed.  "What  is  this  new  non- 
sense?" she  asked  contemptuously.  "Are  you  plan- 
ning to  stay  at  home  the  rest  of  your  life  and  read 
books  of  travel,  like  a  child?" 

"Better  read  books  of  travel  than  spend  one's  time 
listening  to  the  conversation  of  idiotic  young  men,"  re- 
torted Monique. 

[20] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Men  are  stupid — we  know  that  well  enough,"  her 
mother  conceded.  "But  we  have  got  to  marry  them 
and  live  with  them,  for  all  that.  So  what  is  the  use 
of  calling  them  names?  If  you  don't  go  out,  you 
will  never  have  the  chance  to  marry." 

"It  does  not  strike  me  that  it  would  be  such  a  ter- 
rible loss,"  answered  Monique.  "Especially  for  the 
other  party,"  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  false  mod- 
esty. 

"You  think  of  not  marrying?  You  are  absolutely 
mad!  I  would  rather  give  you  away  to  anybody  than 
see  you  unmarried.  My  daughter  unmarried!" 

Monique  could  not,  of  course,  refuse  all  the  invi- 
tations. Neither  could  she  consistently  refrain  from 
mentioning  the  subject  which  was  now  filling  her 
mind.  In  a  very  short  time  all  her  friends  were 
aware  of  her  latest  whim  and  deferred  to  it,  some  of 
them  calculatingly,  some  with  genuine  interest.  The 
lady  who  had  procured  her  the  original  invitation  to 
the  Chinese  Embassy  was  highly  pleased  to  see  her 
enthusiasm  and  to  have  had  something  initially  to  do 
with  it.  She  called  with  Monique  upon  the  Duke  of 
Krong's  daughters.  Conversation  was  somewhat 
difficult,  for  the  young  ladies  were  only  begin- 
ning to  study  French.  But  they  were  all  very  pleased 
with  one  another.  A  few  days  afterward  the  same 
worthy  lady  arranged  a  dinner  party,  at  which  Mon- 
ique found  herself  sitting  next  Ming-ni.  This  time  he 
was  dressed  in  the  simple  unjform  of  an  officer  of  the 

[21] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Guard.  A  turban  of  blue  silk  with  figures  chastely 
embroidered  in  gold  encircled  his  thin,  finely  molded 
face.  A  short  coat  of  dark  blue  silk  with  a  dragon 
embroidered  on  the  breast,  a  belt  with  jade  ornaments, 
and  high  boots  made  of  black  silk  with  thick  white 
felt  soles,  gave  him  an  arrestingly  distinguished  ap- 
pearance. 

Madame  de  Rosen  was  not  pleased  to  see  the  ob- 
vious delight  of  her  daughter.  She  caught  Monique 
looking  intently  at  Ming-ni's  thin,  long,  supple  pale 
hands,  and  immediately  afterward  at  the  short, 
stubby,  red,  hairy  hands  of  her  neighbour  on  the 
other  side. 

Monique's  mother  had  to  concede  that  the  young 
diplomat's  manners  were  perfect.  Under  his  admir- 
ably polished  reserve  there  certainly  appeared  an  in- 
terest in  this  beautiful  girl  who  was  chatting  with  him 
in  such  simple  and  gracious  friendliness.  But  he 
was  so  self-contained  and  aloof  that  Madame  de  Rosen 
did  not  know  which  of  two  things  made  her  the  more 
furious:  his  failure  to  show  gratification  over  her 
daughter's  attentions,  or  his  demonstration  that  he 
was  completely  worthy  of  them. 
"The  two  remained  together  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  evening.  When  Madame  de  Rosen  considered 
that  it  was  time  to  take  her  daughter  home,  she  did 
not  succeed  in  attracting  her  attention  until  after  sev- 
eral attempts.  The  door  had  hardly  closed  behind 
them  when  she  began:  "You  are  absolutely  mad! 

[22] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Compromising  yourself  with  a  Chinese,  and  in  such 
a  frightful  manner!  With  a  Frenchman  it  might  not 
matter:  it  is  more  or  less  the  custom.  But  with  a 
Chinese — !  Everybody  noticed  it." 

"Maybe,"  answered  Monique  indifferently.  "But 
it  was  the  first  dinner  party  I  ever  really  enjoyed." 

"Tcha!"  said  her  mother,  with  an  exasperated 
shrug.  "One  would  think  you  had  always  martyred 
yourself." 

"I  haven't  very  often  enjoyed  myself,  anyhow." 

"No?  Well,  I  can  assure  you  that  the  persons  who 
have  to  sit  beside  you  enjoy  themselves  still  less  when 
you  keep  talking  about  your  everlasting  China." 

"That  is  very  silly  of  them." 

"It  is  not  silly  at  all.  They  live  in  their  own  coun- 
try and  in  their  own  time." 

"A  jolly  country  and  time  to  live  in,  I  must  say! 
I  assure  you,  mother,  I  really  can't  go  on  for  ever 
talking  about  Mrs.  So-and-so's  dresses  and  her  last 
divorce- — or  her  next  one.  Our  contemporaries  have 
destroyed  everything  that  belongs  to  the  past.  Their 
new  order  of  things  is  such  a  fizzle  that  our  civiliza- 
tion will  very  likely  disappear." 

"Let  it  disappear,  then,  my  dear  girl.  We  our- 
selves shall  have  disappeared  long  before  that.  In 
the  meanwhile,  we  must  live — and  marry.  As  for 
you,  our  family  and  fortune  are  such  that  you  may 
aspire  to  any  one.  Don't  play  with  your  reputation 
for  a  mere  passing  fancy." 

[23] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


There  was  a  pause.  No  answer  forthcoming,  she 
continued:  "You  will  see,  as  the  years  pass  and  you 
find  yourself  alone.  You  will  be  ready  to  marry 
anybody  who  comes  along,  then." 

"No.  Not  any  ordinary  man  like  most  of  those  we 
meet." 

"Perhaps  you  will  marry  your  Chinese,  then?" 
sneered  her  mother. 

"And  why  not?"  answered  Monique  simply. 

"Oh!  do  you  mean  it?" 

"Why  not?"  repeated  her  daughter.  "He  is  a  hun- 
dred times  superior  to  the  whole  lot  of  the  others." 

"Surely  you  do  not  think  it  really  possible  to  marry 
a  Chinese?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  As  well  a  Chinese  as  any  other 
foreigner." 

"You  would  have  me  going  about  with  a  Chinese 
for  a  son-in-law?  I,  for  one,  will  never  accept  any 
such  situation." 

And  the  estimable  lady,  more  than  ever  disturbed 
and  incensed,  swept  majestically  from  the  room. 
She  was  all  but  capable  of  slamming  the  door  shut 
behind  her. 


[24] 


Ill 


<  <T  ADMIRE  you  greatly,  0  Elder  Brother!"  said 

JL  the  Duke.  He  was  reclining,  rather  than  sit- 
ting, in  a  copious  armchair.  "At  your  age  I  had,  in 
spite  of  my  work,  three  second  wives.  I  am  wonder- 
ing how  you  can  exist  without  even  one." 

"The  pleasures  of  love  are  but  a  waste  of  time, 
0  Great  Man,"  answered  Ming-ni,  flicking  the  ash 
from  his  cigarette. 

"True,  true!  but  they  are  no  less  a  pleasant  neces- 
sity of  Nature." 

"Besides,  I  must  confess  that  here  in  the  West  they 
are  not  conveniently  provided  for.  With  married 
women,  they  are  very  dangerous,  complicated,  and 
therefore  absurd.  With  unmarried  girls,  they  pre- 
sent all  sorts  of  difficulties,  socially  as  well  as  other- 
wise; and  they  might  stand  in  the  way  of  my  work.  I 
hate  scandal." 

"Perfectly  right,"  said  the  Ambassador  with  an  ap- 
proving nod.  "All  the  fault  lies  in  the  scandal. 
What  nobody  knows  does  not  exist." 

"Then,  as  I  would  not  stoop  to  the  lower  and  dirtier 
version  of  what  they  call  'love'  here,  I  have  to  go 
without." 

"But  why  not  marry  one  of  these  foreigners?  She 
[25] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


might  help  you  in  your  work  if  you  chose  her  from  a 
good  family.  You  are  hardly  a  foreigner  to  them 
now,  after  ten  years  in  their  country.  And  as  you 
intend  to  follow  up  your  career  and  stay  out  of  our 
Eighteen  Provinces  for  the  rest  of  your  life,  it  would 
be  just  the  thing  for  you." 

"They  hold  too  conspicuous  a  place  in  the  house- 
hold, these  foreign  women,"  said  Ming-ni. 

"Ah!  ah!"  laughed  the  old  man.  "And  how  is  it 
in  China?  You  don't  take  account  of  the  true  state 
of  things.  Women  are  mistresses  in  the  household 
always  and  everywhere." 

"Then  why  should  we  forsake  our  liberty?" 

"Because,"  said  the  Ambassador,  suddenly  grave, 
"we  must  have  children.  The  pleasures  of  love  are 
given  to  us  as  a  bribe  to  rear  a  family.  Being  of 
nature,  they  cannot  be  evaded.  It  is  high  time  that 
you  had  a  son  to  continue  your  lineage  and  perform 
the  sacrifices  in  the  Temple  of  the  Ancestors.  In 
order  to  have  a  son,  you  must  have  a  wife.  Why 
don't  you  marry  that  sweet  girl — what  is  her  name? — 
Monique?  My  daughters  have  the  most  excellent 
opinion  of  her." 

"Why,"  said  Ming-ni  hesitatingly,  "I  really  have 
never  weighed  the  possibility.  She  is  certainly 
charming,  and  she  has  very  intelligent  ideas  about 
our  country.  But  I  have  simply  never  considered 
the  matter.  And  my  •family  might  have  different 
ideas  for  me." 

[26] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Leave  that  to  me.  I  am  your  father  and  your 
mother  here.  I  shall  write  to  your  family." 

This  conversation  took  place  some  time  after  the 
reception  at  the  Embassy.  In  the  interval  Ming-ni 
and  Monique  had  met  more  than  once.  The  Ambas- 
sador, who  wished  Ming-ni  to  remain  with  him  in 
Paris,  thought  that  the  best  plan  was  to  accomplish 
his  marriage  there.  When  his  daughters,  who  had 
opportunity  to  observe  the  very  evident  admiration  of 
Monique  for  the  young  diplomat,  reported  the  fact 
to  him,  he  saw  at  once  a  possibility  of  achieving  his 
wish.  Thereupon  he  made  private  inquiries  about 
the  family  de  Rosen.  The  result  was  highly  satis- 
factory. He  told  his  daughters  to  entertain  the  de 
Rosens  frequently  and  to  be  especially  amiable  to 
them. 

Madame  de  Rosen  was  flattered  by  these  delicate 
and  assiduous  attentions.  She  was  also  flattered  to 
meet,  in  the  sumptuous  drawing-room  of  the  Rue  de 
Babylon,  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  representa- 
tives of  all  the  nations.  At  dinner  parties  she 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  remark  casually: 
"Madame  X — ,  the  Italian  Ambassador's  wife, 
whom  I  met  the  other  day  .  .  .",  or:  "The  young 
Duchess  of  Krong,  who  is  a  great  friend  of  my 
daughter.  .  .  ."  Such  allusions  were  received 
with  the  deference  always  accorded  to  the  ut- 
terances of  those  who  frequent  the  highest  so- 
ciety. But  she  was  thought  to  be  much  less  gracious 

[27] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


than  before,  and  in  consequence  was  left  more  and 
more  to  herself.  In  turn,  she  found  her  own 
friends  less  entertaining,  and  came  to  fancy  that 
after  all  Monique  might  not  be  so  far  amiss  in  her 
estimate  of  their  world.  She,  too,  took  to  read- 
ing various  works  on  China,  and  even  attempted  to 
discuss  Confucius,  whom  she  managed  to  confound, 
now  with  the  Emperor  of  Japan,  and  now  with  a 
celebrated  Jesuit  missionary.  She  entertained 
Ming-ni  several  times,  together  with  the  Ambassa- 
dor's daughters. 

Perhaps  nothing  would  have  come  of  all  this— 
Ming-ni,  in  his  own  mind,  was  not  in  the  least  com- 
mitted to  such  a  marriage,  and  Monique  thought  of 
him  as  so  icily  detached  that  she  could  never  per- 
ceive the  potential  lover  in  him — had  not  the  Am- 
bassador taken  his  family  for  the  summer  to  Etretat, 
where  Madame  de  Rosen  had  a  little  villa.  Ming-ni 
was  of  course  invited  down  as  the  guest  of  his  chief; 
and  thus  he  had  opportunity  to  see  a  good  deal  of 
Monique.  They  went  about  freely  together,  in  the 
way  of  folk  at  summer  resorts. 

One  day  they  found  themselves  alone  together 
among  the  cliffs,  descending  toward  the  sea  by  one 
of  those  precipitous  inclines  which,  in  the  parlance  of 
the  locality,  are  called  valleuses.  The  blue  expanse 
of  ocean  glittered  in  the  sunlight,  and  between  its  ul- 
tramarine and  the  fresh  vivid  greenness  of  the  coun- 
tryside the  long  file  of  cliffs,  here  chalkily  white, 

[28] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


there  sombre-hued,  curved  away,  into  a  mauve  nori- 
zon.  They  lost  the  view  suddenly,  on  entering  a  tiny 
pocket  of  a  valley.  Sheltered  in  this  nook  was  a 
group  of  thatched  farm  buildings,  dating  perhaps 
from  William  the  Conqueror,  and  now  dilapidated 
and  forlorn.  There  was  nobody  to  be  seen,  and  the 
only  sound  was  the  mild  plashing  of  surf  on  the 
shingle  far  below. 

The  valley  ended  in  a  circular  staircase  hollowed 
out  of  the  chalk.  This  descended  to  the  beach. 
Loopholes  here  and  there  gave  a  light  barely  suf- 
ficient to  reveal  the  uneven  steps. 

Ming-ni  and  Monique  began  the  difficult  descent. 
The  girl  was  wearing  those  high-heeled  slippers  which 
fashion  has  decreed  to  be  necessary,  against  every 
requirement  of  comfort,  beauty,  and  health.  They 
nearly  cost  her  a  serious  injury.  In  one  place  where 
the  chalk  was  wet  she  slipped;  then,  in  the  attempt  to 
regain  her  balance,  she  stumbled,  turning  and  nearly 
spraining  her  ankle.  She  would  have  fallen  head- 
long had  not  Ming-ni  instantly  put  a  firm  arm  round 
her  waist. 

The  sudden  exigency  had  stepped  in  ahead  of  re- 
straint and  the  proprieties,  thrusting  them  cavalierly 
aside.  He  had  no  interval  to  consider  anything  ex- 
cept that  her  warm  and  supple  body  was  strained 
against  him,  yieldingly.  On  a  sudden  she  was  a 
foreigner  no  longer.  And  to  her  he  was  no  longer 
a  Chinese:  he  was  only  a  man,  very  strong  and  at  the 

[29] 


same  time  very  gentle:  a  man  whom — yes,  she  was 
sure  now — she  loved. 

"Are  you  badly  hurt?"  he  asked.  There  was  a 
little  suppressed  throb  in  his  voice. 

"A  trifle,"  she  admitted.  Her  voice,  too,  was  al- 
tered and  strange.  She  forced  it  back,  however,  to 
the  note  of  casual  lightness  by  asking:  "Isn't  my 
weight  too  much  for  you  to  hold  up  this  way?  I 
shall  be  all  right  in  a  minute." 

He  murmured  an  emphatic,  -softly  explosive  dis- 
claimer, insisting  that  he  must  not  leave  her  unsup- 
ported until  they  reached  the  bottom.  They  went  on 
down,  very  slowly  and  carefully.  Neither  was  in  a 
hurry  to  see  the  end  of  the  staircase,  little  as  either 
would  have  admitted  it.  The  high  heels  of  fashion 
abetted  their  secret  mutual  inclination.  A  few  steps 
further,  Monique  slipped  a  second  time,  so  danger- 
ously that  to  save  herself  she  threw  her  free  arm 
round  the  neck  of  her  companion.  For  an  instant 
they  swayed  and  nearly  fell,  clinging  desperately  to 
each  other.  Then  they  stopped. 

They  were  just  at  the  opening  of  the  stairs.  Be- 
fore them  the  sea  was  breaking  in  wavelets  on  the 
grey  pebbles.  The  beach  was  silent  and  empty.  Be- 
hind and  above  them  the  cliffs  towered  more  than  two 
hundred  feet.  In  this  whole  land-  and  sea-scape 
nothing  had  been  touched  or  marred  by  men  since  the 
beginning  of  the  world.  The  two  might  have  been 
the  Adam  and  Eve  of  a  fresh  creation.  The  bright 

[30] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


sun  lighted  wonderful  glints  in  Monique's  eyes,  or  so 
it  seemed  to  Ming-ni.  And  it  seemed  to  the  girl  that 
never  had  she  seen  such  lustrous,  brilliant,  grave, 
dark  eyes,  so  softly  burning  in  their  intensity.  They 
were  loth  to  unclasp  hands.  Their  breathing  quick- 
ened. Waves  of  colour  swept  up  their  cheeks.  She 
lifted  her  face  toward  his;  and  slowly  his  lips  met 
hers  in  a  passionate  and  lingering  kiss. 

They  disengaged  themselves  suddenly,  as  though 
they  had  heard  some  one  call.  The  girl,  still  hold- 
ing his  hand,  murmured:  •  "You  will  speak  to  my 
mother?" 

"The  Ambassador  will,"  answered  Ming-ni. 

They  sat  down  on  the  shingle,  filled  alike  with  the 
burning  desire  to  kiss  again.  They  thought  of  the 
stairway,  and  said,  both  at  once:  "It  is  time  to  go 
back,  is  it  not?" 

They  laughed,  a  trifle  embarrassedly,  and  started 
the  climb.  Ming-ni  offered  his  help.  She  accepted 
it.  At  the  first  turning  they  stopped  and  kissed  again. 
Alas,  there  were  only  three  turnings. 

They  found  themselves,  too  soon,  out  in  the  valley, 
a  little  flushed,  but  very  happy,  and  perceiving  in- 
numerable new  beauties  in  the  old  half -ruined  build- 
ings, in  the  fresh  colour  of  the  lush  grass,  in  the 
fleckless  sky  overhead,  and  in  the  boundless  expanse 
of  the  sea. 


[31] 


IV 


THE  Ambassador  was  delighted  when  Ming-ni 
asked  him  to  act  as  "honourable  intermediary" 
and  to  make  to  Madame  de  Rosen  the  formal  demand 
for  Monique.  When  the  young  man  brought  up  the 
subject  of  his  own  family's  consent,  the  Duke  in- 
terrupted him.  "We  are  not  in  China,  0  Elder 
Brother.  The  customs  of  our  country  cannot  be  fol- 
lowed here.  If  we  had  to  wait  for  your  father's 
sanction,  your  marriage  could  hardly  take  place 
within  the  year.  I  will  cable  your  Venerated  Lord 
and  settle  the  question  out  of  hand.  Just  you  write 
him  a  letter:  I  will  do  the  rest." 

Ming-ni  could  not  but  comply.  He  went  to  his 
room  and  sat  down  at  his  table.  There,  meditatively 
rolling  his  writing-brush  on  the  ink-stone,  he  searched 
his  memory  for  the  most  ceremonious  formula?. 
Then  he  began  to  write,  covering  his  paper  with  fas- 
tidiously traced  ideograms. 

To  the  Venerable  Chen,  Count  of  Lin,  his  son,  the  Little 
Dog  of  the  Household. 

Since  the  day  when  the  Small  One  left  the  respectable  roof 
which  shelters  the  Car  of  Light,  the  time  has  passed  as  an 
arrow.  Light  and  shade  have  come  and  gone  as  does  the 

[32] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


weaver's  shuttle.  My  constant  desire  has  been  to  know  that 
the  Car  of  Light  and  the  Precious  Jewels  have  enjoyed  a 
robust  health  and  an  unmixed  happiness. 

The  Imperial  Envoy,  the  Grand  Man,  has  deigned  to 
bestow  on  the  Little  Dog  of  the  Household  his  kindest  fa- 
vours. He  has  been  my  father  and  my  mother.  Always  at- 
tentive to  his  behests,  always  I  have  obeyed  them.  I  hope 
you  will  say  it  is  well. 

The  Grand  Man  has  recently  given  me  the  order  to  take  a 
wife  after  the  fashion  of  the  West,  in  order  that  my  services 
may  hereafter  be  more  useful  to  my  country.  I  have  obeyed. 
She  is  a  Frenchwoman,  and  of  a  noble  family.  Her  father 
has  a  title  of  nobility  of  the  fifth  degree. 

The  custom  of  the  West  is  not  that  our  family  should  sup- 
ply the  gowns  and  ornaments.  It  is  the  family  of  the  bride 
which  gives  her  a  trousseau  and  a  certain  sum  of  money  as  a 
dowry. 

In  the  hope  that  you  will  approve  my  decision,  I  kneel 
before  you  and  touch  my  forehead  to  the  ground  again 
and  again. 

Ming-ni  read  over  his  own  prose  with  a  certain 
pride,  reflecting  that  it  would  surely  strike  his  father 
as  remarkably  gifted,  and  be  shown  to  the  different 
authorities  and  other  notables  of  the  city.  He  imag- 
ined the  compliments  which  would  be  made,  and  en- 
joyed in  foretaste  what  are  the  most  subtle,  and  per- 
haps the  greatest,  pleasures  of  literary  craftsmanship. 
He  carefully  folded  the  letter  and  inserted  it  into  a 
long  envelope,  tracing  on  the  red  band  which  sealed 
it  the  names,  titles,  and  addresses  of  his  father. 
Then  he  enclosed  the  whole  thing  in  a  foreign  enve- 

[33] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


lope,  so  that  it  should  not  be  defaced  by  the  post  of- 
fice. 

In  the  meantime  the  Ambassador,  without  waiting 
for  an  answer  to  his  cablegram,  put  on  his  robes  and 
his  hat  of  semi-state,  ordered  his  carriage,  and  told 
his  daughter  to  accompany  him  in  order  to  act  as  in- 
terpreter. Madame  de  Rosen,  who  saw  them  com- 
ing, was  overwhelmed.  She  ran  to  her  room  and, 
hastily  calling  her  maid,  told  her  to  admit  the  visitors 
to  the  drawing-room  and  then  to  come  up  at  once 
to  help  her  into  a  new  gown.  While  she  was  dress- 
ing— and  she  did  it  more  quickly  than  ever  in  her 
life  before — she  writhed  inwardly  at  having  to  make 
the  Ambassador  wait  for  her.  She  little  knew  that 
this  was  the  greatest  mark  of  respect  which  could  be 
shown  a  Chinese  visitor.  To  make  him  wait  is  to 
say  unobtrusively  that  the  preparations  made  for  his 
reception  can  never  be  deemed  sufficient. 

She  entered  the  drawing-room  at  last,  looking  as 
though  she  were  in  serious  danger  of  bursting  from 
her  grey  silk  dress.  The  Ambassador  rose  heavily 
from  the  sofa  on  which  he  had  deposited  his  portly 
bulk.  They  exchanged  the  inevitable  urbane  con- 
fusion of  greetings,  which  the  young  Duchess  trans- 
lated haphazard.  This  first  flurry  over,  the  call  took 
a  more  ceremonious  turn.  The  Duke  led  off,  and 
his  daughter  translated  his  sentences  word  for  word. 
Most  of  them  plunged  Madame  de  Rosen  into  the 

[34] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


deepest  momentary  confusion.     Some  of  them  re- 
mained a  mystery  to  her  for  ever  after. 

"0  noble  nurse  of  an  exquisite  child!"  he  began. 
"0  sorrowing  widow  of  a  most  distinguished  scholar!" 
(In  sober  fact,  her  husband  had  been  a  soldier  and 
had  detested  literature.) 

"Excellency,  I  am  much  confused — I  do  not  know 
what  to  say — " 

"Since  the  powerful  Master  of  the  Palace  has  de- 
parted for  the  lower  regions — " 

"What,"  thought  Madame  de  Rosen,  speechless 
with  astonishment,  "does  he  mean?" 

" — Leaving  a  tender  rose  in  the  garden  of  your 
virtue,  the  warmth  of  your  maternal  love  has  made  it 
bloom.  From  the  distant  regions  of  the  ancient  prov- 
ince of  Se-chrwa  has  come  another  rose,  grown  like- 
wise in  the  shelter  of  parental  love.  Shall  we  graft 
these  two  roses  on  the  same  stem  and  help  them  to 
give  forth  many  new  buds?" 

Happily  for  the  baroness,  Monique  had  told  her 
that  the  Ambassador  was  to  come  and  sue  for  her  hand 
in  behalf  of  Ming-ni.  Otherwise  she  would  never 
have  guessed  the  meaning  of  language  so  flowery,  and 
the  resultant  scene  might  have  been  painful.  For 
once  she  was  ashamed  of  the  platitude  of  Western 
idioms.  She  answered:  "My  little  rose  and  your 
dahlia  will  make  a  delicious  nosegay,  and  I  am  very 
pleased  to  give  my  consent  to  their  union." 

[35] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


To  this  the  Ambassador  made  answer  by  a  bow. 
Then  he  tried  valiantly  to  kneel  down  in  order  to 
make  another  and  deeper  bow.  His  hostess,  filled 
with  consternation,  felt  sure  that  if  he  succeeded  in 
doing  it  he  would  never  be  able  to  rise  again;  and 
there  ensued  a  gentle  struggle,  such  as  is  foreseen 
and  provided  for  by  the  rites  governing  similar  in- 
stances. At  last,  amidst  many  protestations  and 
greetings,  the  old  man  departed,  accompanied  to  his 
carriage  by  Madame  de  Rosen.  She  asked  herself 
afterward  whether  she  ought  not  to  have  helped  him 
into  his  seat. 

When  she  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  still  quite 
overwhelmed  by  the  suddenness  and  the  ceremony  of 
the  call,  Monique  was  waiting  for  her.  "What  did 
he  say?"  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"He  talked  about  roses  and  flowers  and  gardens. 
I  hope  I  really  understood:  he  may  have  come  merely 
to  ask  for  a  graft  out  of  our  rose-tree!" 

Monique  laughed  and  kissed  her  mother  affection- 
ately. "You  know,  mother,"  she  said,  "that  the  Chin- 
ese always  speak  in  elaborate  images." 

"And  their  language!  A-choo-chi-to-rao — my 
dear  girl,  not  in  a  thousand  lives  should  I  be  able  to 
understand  a  word  of  it." 

"Oh,  I  will  learn  it  quickly  enough  when  I  am 
married.  Moreover,  Ming-ni  speaks  such  excellent 
French!  I  need  be  in  no  hurry  to  master  his  lan- 
guage." 

[36] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Especially  if  you  stay  here  all  your  life.  But 
what  are  we  going  to  do  now?  Have  they  any  special 
ceremony  to  perform?" 

"My  dear  mother,"  answered  the  girl,  laughing, 
"we  are  going  to  marry  just  like  anybody  else,  so 
don't  you  worry  yourself  about  it.  The  Ambassador 
had  to  come  because  your  future  son-in-law's  parents 
happen  to  be  ten  thousand  miles  away." 

"Ten  thousand  miles!  Good  gracious!  What  a 
distance!  Anyhow,  they  will  hardly  be  able  to  drop 
in  on  you  every  day.  But  now  let  us  be  serious  and 
speak  of  important  matters.  What  sort  of  gown  are 
you  going  to  wear  for  your  wedding,  and  where  shall 
we  go  for  it?" 

It  was  a  long  discussion  which  began  with  these 
words.  Nothing  was  settled  when,  presently,  Ming-ni 
appeared.  Faultlessly  attired  in  frock-coat  and  top- 
hat,  he  inspired  such  bewilderment  in  the  soul  of  a 
young  fisherman  just  arriving  from  the  beach  with  a 
basketful  of  seaweed  on  his  back,  that  this  over- 
whelmed youth  remained  standing  rooted  with  his 
little  eyes  wide  open,  long  after  the  door  had  closed 
behind  the  visitor. 

Ming-ni  ceremoniously  kissed  the  hands  of  the  la- 
dies. He  was  going  to  sit  down  to  a  grave  and  defer- 
ential talk  with  his  future  mother-in-law,  but  Monique 
forestalled  his  generous  politeness  by  leading  him  off 
to  her  own  room.  Before  he  went,  however,  he  made 
a  chance  to  thank  the  baroness  for  her  consent,  and  to 

[37] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


tell  her  how  fervently  he  hoped  to  make  her  daughter 
happy. 

On  that  day  there  began  for  Monique  that  always 
too  short  period  of  enchantment,  more  and  more  in- 
terspersed with  long  visits  to  the  dressmaker,  which 
precedes  a  European  marriage.  The  knight  of  old, 
before  taking  the  great  oath  required  by  the  orders  of 
chivalry,  used  to  pass  the  night  in  a  church  to  ponder 
deeply  on  the  importance  of  the  vows  to  which  he  was 
about  to  commit  himself,  and  which  he  might  not 
henceforth  break  without  crime.  The  marriage  vows 
are  even  more  important  in  a  woman's  life,  and  per- 
haps even  harder  to  keep.  Yet,  instead  of  passing 
her  last  days  before  the  event  in  a  calm  retreat  where 
she  can  reflect  and  scrutinize  her  own  heart,  she  is 
rushed  about  in  a  whirlwind  to  dressmakers,  milli- 
ners, jewellers,  and  their  kind,  not  to  speak  of  the 
complete  round  of  visits  to  all  her  family  and  its  con- 
nections. When  the  day  of  her  marriage  finally 
dawns,  she  is  utterly  worn  out  in  both  body  and 
mind.  Some  women  are  so  broken  by  these  proceed- 
ings that  they  never  recover. 

Monique  passed  through  the  ordeal  without  much 
difficulty.  Fortunately,  it  was  summer,  and  many 
people  were  away.  She  remained  as  late  as  possible 
at  the  seaside.  Nevertheless,  everything  and  every- 
body seemed  changed  to  her.  The  voices  of  callers 
reached  her  as  from  afar,  and  their  persons  appeared 

[38] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


to  her  eyes  as  if  enveloped  in  a  sort  of  haze.  The 
fact  was  that  she  never  listened  to  them  or  really 
looked  at  them,  her  mind  being  entirely  obsessed  by 
her  own  present  and  future. 

Madame  de  Rosen  was  perfect  during  the  whole 
period.  Her  daughter  was  going  to  be  a  Viscountess; 
and  although  a  foreign  title  is  never  quite  worth  a 
good  old  national  one,  it  was  somewhat  gratifying  to 
her  pride.  She  even  developed  a  liking  for  Ming-ni. 
His  constant  and  ready  politeness  rendered  very 
pleasant  any  social  relation  that  one  might  have  with 
him.  His  cold  reserve,  too,  inspired  in  her  a  sort  of 
respect.  She  dared  not  speak  to  him  as  she  would 
have  done  to  any  European. 

As  for  Ming-ni,  he  carried  out  his  duties  with  thor- 
ough conscientiousness.  His  education  had  deeply 
impressed  upon  him  the  great  importance  of  the  most 
trifling  details  of  social  intercourse.  Still,  he  could 
not  help  thinking  sometimes  how  complicated  and  ab- 
surd the  whole  business  really  was.  It  was  well 
enough,  perhaps,  he  said  to  himself,  to  have  the  great- 
est possible  number  of  persons  present  at  the  mar- 
riage, since  their  testimony  might  be  used  later  on 
to  prove  the  validity  of  the  union;  but  it  was  dan- 
gerous, besides  being  utterly  distasteful,  to  go  about 
showing  one's  future  wife  to  every  man  in  town — 
as  dangerous  as  to  be  exhibited  oneself  to  every 
woman  one  might  happen  ever  to  have  met.  Suppose 

[39] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


one  happened  to  meet  another  girl  for  whom  one  took 
a  violent  fancy?  Or  suppose  a  man  should  fall  in 
love  with  one's  fiancee  and  carry  her  off? 

At  last  the  sun  rose  on  the  great  day.  Madame  de 
Rosen  had  arranged  that  the  wedding  should  take 
place  at  the  Madeleine,  that  church  being  considered 
the  most  fashionably  exclusive  in  Paris.  To  her  in- 
tense delight,  a  missionary  bishop  who  had  known 
Ming-ni  in  China  offered  to  give  the  nuptial  benedic- 
tion to  the  young  couple.  The  priest's  long  white 
beard  and  the  splendour  of  his  pontifical  insignia 
contributed  to  the  ceremony  the  impressiveness  of  an 
outstanding  event  in  the  social  life  of  the  capital. 
Numerous  photographers  were  sent  by  the  illustrated 
papers  to  take  snapshots.  The  crowd  on  the  boule- 
vards noticed  their  presence  on  the  church  steps  and 
gathered  to  see  what  was  about  to  happen.  The  po- 
licemen were  obliged  to  telephone  for  reinforcements. 
A  bright  autumnal  sun  shone  on  the  gold  and  purple 
of  the  awning  set  up  from  the  door  down  to  the  curb. 
The  invited  guests,  and  many  uninvited  ones,  crowded 
in,  jamming  the  broad  aisles.  The  young  couple  ap- 
peared at  last.  Ming-ni  wore  his  full  dress — a  high 
bonnet  of  sables,  with  peacock  feathers  and  fox-tails 
hanging  on  his  shoulders,  a  heavy  robe  sparkling  with 
jewels  and  golden  embroidery.  Monique,  covered  by 
her  long  veil  of  white  lace,  was  simply  dressed  by 
comparison.  The  entire  staff  of  the  Embassy  was 
there,  in  its  richest  official  costumes.  The  effect  was 

[40] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


so  splendid  that  the  crowd  broke  into  applause. 
Those  who  could  not  see  pressed  from  behind  against 
the  front  ranks  of  spectators.  A  woman  fainted. 
A  child  was  trampled.  There  were  screams  and  re- 
monstrances. Never  before  had  a  marriage  caused 
such  an  agitation.  For  a  week  afterward  the  illus- 
trated papers  were  filled  with  photographs,  and  the 
society  papers  gave  long  and  more  or  less  overwrought 
accounts  of  the  occasion.  In  short,  it  was  a  huge  suc- 
cess. 

When  the  bridal  procession  went  out  after  the  bene- 
diction, there  were  shouts  of  acclamation.  The  re- 
ception which  followed  was  given  at  the  Embassy. 
The  crowd  seemed  to  be  even  greater  there,  and  some 
had  to  wait  in  their  carriages  for  more  than  two  hours 
before  they  could  step  out  under  the  yellow  tiles  of 
the  verandah  at  the  entrance.  Utterly  worn  out,  and 
feeling  as  if  they  were  going  to  die  the  next  moment, 
the  young  couple  stayed  on.  They  seemed  so  ex- 
hausted that  at  last  the  Ambassador  humanely  told 
Ming-ni  to  take  his  wife  away. 

Monique  could  hardly  stand  while  her  maid  helped 
her  change  her  dress.  At  length  she  was  ready,  and 
they  started.  When  she  found  herself  in  the  car- 
riage alone  with  her  husband,  she  had  just  enough 
strength  left  to  grasp  his  hand,  before  sinking  im- 
mediately into  a  deep  sleep. 


[41] 


ON  the  day  after  her  daughter's  wedding,  Mad- 
ame de  Rosen  also  was  exhausted.  Having  or- 
dered her  maid  to  buy  all  the  newspapers,  she  de- 
cided to  stay  in  bed.  There,  comfortably  propped 
up,  she  began  to  read  the  reports  of  the  wedding, 
skipping  never  a  word.  She  was  filled  with  a  grow- 
ing sense  of  her  own  importance.  After  she  had 
gone  through  them  all,  she  made  a  selection  of  the 
most  fulsome  reports,  which  she  meant  to  leave  neg- 
ligently on  a  table  in  her  drawing-room.  In  the  after- 
noon the  most  intimate  of  her  friends  called.  She 
read  them  the  choicest  extracts,  which  by  this  time  she 
had  practically  memorized. 

The  next  day  she  had  the  brilliant  inspiration  to 
buy  an  album  in  which  to  keep  these  and  other  such 
remembrances  of  a  glorious  day.  Presently  the 
weekly  illustrated  papers  came  to  renew  her  pleasure. 
She  had  what  was  really  a  quite  extraordinary  collec- 
tion, and  many  of  her  callers  could  hardly  contain 
their  jealousy.  Some  of  them  even  went  so  far  as 
to  remark:  "How  everything  is  changed  nowadays! 
In  the  old  time  it  would  have  been  thought  quite  vul- 
gar to  let  such  publicity  be  given  one's  name;  whereas 

[42] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


now  the  most  respectable  women  have  the  same  love 
of  notoriety  that  actresses  have." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Madame  de  Rosen  would  answer.  "But 
you  know  that  emperors,  kings,  and  high  personages 
generally  have  always  attracted  the  public  notice. 
Whatever  our  personal  feelings  may  be,  we  cannot 
do  anything  without  a  crowd  watching  us,  reporters 
taking  notes,  and  photographers  waiting  at  every  cor- 
ner." And  this  pronouncement  would  arouse  still 
more  vindictive  emotions  in  the  souls  of  her  friends. 

The  news  from  her  daughter  served  to  replenish 
conversation  and  at  the  same  time  changed,  not  un- 
happily, the  current  of  her  thoughts.  Monique  was 
in  Italy,  of  course.  The  plain  truth  was  that  Madame 
de  Rosen  had  begun  to  be  anxious  about  her.  The 
letters  she  received  were  short.  At  first  she  ascribed 
their  brevity  to  the  emotions  of  her  daughter's  new 
status;  and  she  remembered,  with  the  soft  pleasure 
which  such  images  invariably  evoke  in  the  memories 
of  the  elderly,  her  own  honeymoon  trip,  also  to  Italy. 
But  at  that  point  it  occurred  to  her  that  things  were 
not  at  all  the  same.  Monique  had  married  a  Chinese. 
A  Chinese — think  of  that!  All  her  former  narrow 
and  silly  prejudices  came  flooding  back. 

"Those  Orientals  have  frightful  habits,"  she  mused. 
"He  certainly  smokes  opium.  Who  knows  but  he 
has  a  harem  already?  Monique  may  find  herself 
sharing  him  with  a  negress,  a  Hottentot,  and  a  Red 
Indian.  And  it  is  more  than  likely  that  he  gambles. 

[43] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


It  is  notorious  that  the  Chinese  are  inveterate  gamb- 
lers. All  the  books  on  China  record  extraordinary 
instances  of  this  mania.  And  it  seems  they  are  ter- 
rible beyond  words  when  anything  offends  them. 
They  wait  for  years,  and  never  forget  or  forgive. 
Oh,  I  ought  never  to  have  allowed  this  marriage! 
And  there  must  be  something  wrong:  otherwise  Moni- 
que  would  have  written  long  letters.  My  poor  child! 
So  loving,  too,  and  so  sweet!  What  am  I  to  do?" 

After  two  or  three  days  of  such  self-torture,  she 
stopped  saying  "What  am  I  to  do?"  and  acted.  Her 
first  act  was  to  send  a  telegram: 

Most  anxious  about  you.     Answer  at  once. 
She  received  the  answer  that  same  evening: 

Coming  back  tomorrow.     Everything  all  right. 

Madame  de  Rosen  glowed  with  triumph.  "I  knew  I 
must  do  something,"  she  told  herself.  "It  is  always 
best  to  act  with  decision.  Why,  I  may  have  saved  my 
child's  life — who  knows?" 

She  could  not  sleep  that  night  or  the  next.  The 
travellers  were  to  arrive  by  a  train  which  reached 
Paris  fairly  late.  In  spite  of  her  impatience  she 
could  hardly  go  to  the  station  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  But  she  was  up  with  the  dawn,  waiting 
impatiently  till  the  hour  at  which  she  could  decently 
present  herself  at  the  Embassy.  It  came  at  last,  and 
she  hurried  to  the  Rue  de  Babylon. 

[44] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Waiting  in  the  quaintly  furnished  drawing-room, 
she  fully  expected  to  see  her  daughter  appear  thin  and 
pale,  perhaps  bearing  the  visible  marks  of  blows. 
What  was  her  surprise,  then,  to  see  Monique  tripping 
gaily  toward  her  across  the  vast  room,  obviously  her 
old  self  and  extremely  content.  Madame  de  Rosen 
felt  herself  borne  up  on  an  enormous  wave  of  relief. 

But  then,  suddenly,  it  flashed  across  her  that  this 
daughter  of  hers  was  hers  no  longer.  She  was  now 
the  bride  of  a  stranger,  an  alien — a  Chinese!  She, 
the  mother,  had  lost  every  claim.  Up  to  this  day  she 
had  lived  exclusively  for  her  child.  Now,  almost  in 
an  instant,  the  world  of  their  common  memories  and 
emotions  had  been  swept  away,  or,  worse  still,  had 
become  the  property  of  a  stranger. 

"He  has  at  least  been  good  to  you,  I  trust?"  she 
asked. 

"Oh,  yes  indeed,"  said  Monique,  laughing  tend- 
erly. "He  is  simply  adorable — so  chivalrous  and 
good!  I  am  very  happy,  mother." 

This  was  too  much.  Her  daughter,  the  child  she 
had  reared,  had  been  happy  all  the  time,  while  she 
herself,  the  poor  abandoned  mother,  had  been  under- 
going tortures  on  her  behalf.  She  thought  of  telling 
Monique  what  she  had  been  imagining,  and  of  adding 
a  hint  about  the  proverbial  ingratitude  of  children. 
But  she  managed  to  restrain  herself  and  to  cloak  her 
suffering  in  silence.  The  generous  wine  of  her  ma- 
ternal love  was  beginning  to  turn  into  the  vinegar  of 

[45] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


jealousy.     She  had  equally  strong  impulses  to  say 
disagreeable  things  and  not  to  say  them. 

Ming-ni  was  deeply  shocked  by  this  early  call.  He 
had  understood  the  real  significance  of  the  telegram. 
Moreover,  it  was  quite  contrary  to  the  customs  and 
usages  of  both  Eastern  and  Western  civilizations  that 
his  mother-in-law  should  come  to  them.  He  was 
fully  prepared  to  accompany  his  wife  on  her  first 
visit  to  her  mother — say,  that  afternoon.  Now,  to 
show  his  disapproval  of  such  a  breach  of  etiquette, 
he  did  not  go  down  to  see  Madame  de  Rosen  at  all. 
In  explanation  to  Monique,  he  affected  to  assume  that 
so  early  an  interview  with  his  wife  must  be  a  private 
business  one. 

Madame  de  Rosen,  not  understanding  his  motive, 
saw  in  his  non-appearance  nothing  but  a  deliberate 
affront,  and  she  was  mortally  wounded.  This  Moni- 
que perceived.  Later  on,  she  mentioned  it  to  her  hus- 
band. It  was  the  occasion  of  their  very  first  tiff. 

Truth  to  tell,  Madame  de  Rosen  had  not  a  very 
well  disciplined  character.  The  atmosphere  of 
Parisian  society  is  deadly  to  those  ideals,  those  in- 
flexible unwritten  rules  governing  the  inward  and 
secret  parts  of  fine  breeding,  which  in  different  coun- 
tries or  periods  have  crystallized  as  Honor,  Chivalry, 
and  the  Japanese  Bushido;  which  have  formed  in  turn 
such  different  paragons  as  the  knight  of  old  and  the 
highest  type  of  modern  gentleman.  While  the  baro- 
ness had  had  her  daughter  with  her,  maternal  affection 

[46] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


had  wrought  in  her  that  element  of  disinterestedness, 
of  constant  sympathy  for  the  feelings  of  others,  which 
forbids  one  to  take  pleasure  in  the  suffering  of  an- 
other. Moreover,  her  life  had  been  an  easy  one. 
She  and  her  daughter  had  enjoyed  constant  success 
and  social  triumph.  Hence  she  had  had  little  cause 
for  envy.  Her  vanity  had  always  been  agreeably 
tickled.  But  now  she  had  not  the  same  interested 
motives  for  giving  or  accepting  hospitality;  and  ac- 
cordingly she  was  left  a  good  deal  to  herself.  Her 
daughter,  instead  of  bringing  her  an  even  flow  of 
love  and  gratification,  became  the  object  of  her  deep- 
est bitterness  and  jealousy.  When  Monique  was  af- 
fectionate, she  thought  it  must  be  out  of  pity,  and  her 
pride  resented  it.  When  Monique,  preoccupied  by 
her  new  duties,  did  not  come  often  enough  or  pay  suf- 
ficient attention  to  her  opinions,  the  older  lady 
ascribed  it  to  indifference.  Worse  still,  she  saw  in  it 
the  prophecy  of  total  future  neglect. 

In  her  loneliness  she  forged  and  sharpened  a  good 
many  little  barbed  remarks  to  let  fly  at  the  first  op- 
portunity. Such  remarks  never  semed  to  pierce  the 
armour  of  her  son-in-law's  unremitting  correctness  of 
behaviour;  but  they  penetrated  Monique's  sensibil- 
ities deeply — the  more  deeply  because  Ming-ni's  con- 
stant and  meticulous  politeness  rendered  it  impossi- 
ble for  her  to  charge  him  with  any  responsibility  for 
the  strained  relations.  Whatever  the  provocation,  he 
never  once  undertook  to  protest  by  any  sign  more  ex- 

[47] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


plicit  than  the  expression  of  pained  astonishment 
which  would  appear  on  the  face  of  a  host  if  he  saw, 
say,  the  guest  at  his  table  commit  some  gross  and 
outrageous  breach  of  etiquette. 

In  order  to  put  an  end  to  the  distressing  situation, 
Monique  prevented  meetings  between  her  husband 
and  her  mother  whenever  she  could.  But  this  only 
made  matters  worse.  Madame  de  Rosen,  no  longer 
restrained  by  the  presence  of  her  son-in-law,  could 
talk  freely  about  him  to  her  daughter.  Her  own  mor- 
dant remarks  about  him  served  to  convince  her  more 
and  more  that  she  was  being  mistreated.  Her  irrita- 
tion grew  by  what  it  fed  on.  Monique,  of  course, 
was  very  disagreeably  affected  by  the  things  her 
mother  said.  And  she  tried  to  explain  to  her  mother 
how  unreasonable  she  was  being — as  if  one  could  or- 
der one's  feelings  by  logic! 

Some  few  of  her  mother's  remarks  were  not  abso- 
lutely devoid  of  truth,  and  these  Monique  was  so 
foolish  as  to  repeat  to  her  husband,  in  the  hope  that 
he  would  put  into  her  mouth  an  argument  persuasive 
enough  to  change  Madame  de  Rosen's  attitude.  Hap- 
pily, Ming-ni  possessed  the  marvellous  faculty  of  self- 
command,  fine  fruit  of  the  rigorous  moral  cultivation 
of  the  East.  He  had  been  taught  that  speech  is  the 
servant  of  politeness,  useful  only  to  lubricate  social 
relationships.  It  must  never  be  allowed  to  play  the 
traitor  and  give  away  one's  most  intimate  self  to  oth- 

[48] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ers,  whoever  they  may  be.  Using  language  to  bare 
one's  inmost  emotions  is  called  in  China  "not  speak- 
ing Reason" — poo  shwo  li.  Children  and  illiterates 
may  commit  such  an  excess,  but  a  true  scholar  will 
never  do  it.  For  this  reason  Ming-ni  did  not  explain 
to  Monique  his  full  sense  of  the  present  difficulty. 
He  contented  himself  with  saying  he  was  extremely 
sorry  that  any  word  or  act  of  his  should  have  annoyed 
and  offended  his  mother-in-law.  He  added  a  promise 
to  be  even  more  scrupulously  careful  in  future.  In 
his  own  mind,  though,  he  conceded  that  it  was  an 
awkward  situation — one  capable  of  making  his  wife 
most  unhappy  and,  incidentally,  of  distracting  him 
from  his  work. 

Behind  Ming-ni  were  several  thousand  years  of  a 
civilization  based  on  reason  and  common  sense. 
The  unnumbered  generations  of  his  ancestors  had 
been  taught,  as  he  had  been,  to  sift  everything  in  an 
effort  to  distinguish  the  truth  (which  one  keeps  for 
one's  own  profitable  use)  from  the  falsehood  (which 
one  passes  on  to  others  in  lieu  of  truth  if  they  be  silly 
enough  to  accept  it).  He  also  knew  that  genuine 
feelings,  sympathies  and  antipathies,  will  not  be  com- 
manded. Such  feelings  never  alter  unless  all  the 
conditions  happen  to  alter. 

Since  his  mother-in-law  appeared  to  be  in  the  pink 
of  health,  there  was  no  relief  to  be  anticipated  from 
her  early  demise.  Moreover,  the  intensity  of  Moni- 

[49] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


que's  filial  love  rendered  this  outcome  most  undesir- 
able anyway.  Their  early  departure  from  Paris  was 
the  sole  means  of  solving  the  difficulty. 

On  the  day  after  he  had  taken  this  decision,  Ming-ni 
entered  the  Ambassador's  room  wearing  a  very  grave 
face,  and  announced  that  he  had  just  received  the  news 
of  the  death  of  an  uncle  who  had  left  no  male  descend- 
ant. "The  sacrifices  to  the  ancestors  must,  of  course, 
be  accomplished  as  soon  as  possible,"  he  continued. 
"As  I  am  the  nearest  to  a  descendant  of  the  deceased, 
I  must  go  at  once  to  our  native  city  and  perform  these 
duties.  I  shall  come  back  without  delay,  and  need 
not  be  away  for  more  than  a  few  months." 

As  it  happened,  the  Duke  knew  Ming-ni's  family 
tolerably  well.  He  remembered  clearly  that  the 
young  man  had  no  uncle.  The  pretext  was  palpably 
false.  But  the  Ambassador  also  knew  that  Ming-ni 
was  of  a  serious  and  dependable  character.  He  in- 
ferred that  behind  his  decision  lay  an  errand  which 
was  at  once  urgent  and  secret.  Ming-ni  was  entitled 
to  the  favour,  and  there  was  no  possibility  of  refusing 
it.  Accordingly  he  told  Ming-ni  with  a  grave  face 
that  he  personally  shared  his  grief;  then  he  authorized 
him  to  start  on  his  journey  by  the  first  steamer. 

Ming-ni  told  the  same  story  to  his  wife  and  her 
mother,  knowing  very  well  that  Monique  would  de- 
cline to  go  if  she  knew  his  real  motive.  The  sud- 
denness of  the  plan  and  the  necessity  of  hurrying  their 
preparations  prevented  the  two  women  from  fully  re- 

[50] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


alizing  the  cruelty  of  their  impending  separation. 
Even  the  mother,  assured  that  her  daughter  would 
soon  return,  could  say  nothing.  She  made  a  tenta- 
tive offer  to  accompany  the  young  couple;  but  Moni- 
que  showed  no  enthusiasm,  and  as  for  Ming-ni,  he 
answered  by  murmuring  something  about  the  weather. 

The  day  of  departure  dawned  at  last.  Many 
friends  came  to  the  station  to  wish  them  bon  voyage. 
Madame  de  Rosen  was  flattered  thereby,  and  her 
grief,  though  genuine  enough,  was  softened.  Only 
when  the  train  started  did  she  begin  to  feel  the  extent 
of  her  loss.  Even  then,  she  stood  alternately  waving 
her  handkerchief  and  wiping  her  eyes.  Monique, 
who  had  kept  her  head  out  of  the  window  as  long  as 
her  mother  could  be  seen,  sank  into  her  seat  with  a 
sigh  of  contentment,  even  though  there  were  still  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

Ming-ni  was  intensely  pleased  with  his  success. 
Well  he  knew  that  his  wife's  momentary  sorrow  would 
promptly  be  alleviated  by  the  enchantments  of  the 
journey. 


[51] 


VI 

IT  was  raining  heavily  when  they  arrived  at  Mar- 
seilles. The  streets  and  houses  appeared  to  them 
as  dirty  and  gloomy  as  those  of  any  other  Western 
city.  But  the  old  port  was  fairly  picturesque,  with 
its  sail  boats  and  tiny  steam  launches  balancing  on 
the  ground  swell,  among  cabbage  leaves  and  other 
flotsam. 

They  went  directly  to  their  steamer,  without  making 
the  classic  excursion  to  Notre  Dame-de-la-Garde,  the 
golden  statue  of  which  they  could  descry  on  the  hill 
through  the  rain.  They  arranged  their  luggage  in 
their  stateroom.  Then,  from  the  upper  deck,  they 
gave  themselves  to  watching  the  newly  arrived  pas- 
sengers struggling  in  the  midst  of  innumerable  boxes 
and  trunks  and  embracing  again  and  again  the  rela- 
tives and  friends  who  had  come  to  see  them  off. 

The  hour  of  departure  struck  at  length.  The  last 
hawser  was  cast  off,  they  moved  away  from  the  dock, 
and  the  big  liner  was  got  under  way,  to  the  tune  of 
shouts  and  good-byes  from  the  passengers  and  those 
whom  they  were  leaving  behind.  To  Ming-ni  and 
Monique,  who  knew  not  a  soul  on  the  quay,  the  agita- 
tion of  all  these  strangers  and  the  tears  which  ran 

[52] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


down  many  faces  appeared  extravagant,  even  ridicu- 
lous. 

They  had  no  more  than  left  the  shelter  of  the  har- 
bour when  both  of  them  began  to  experience  that  gen- 
eral weariness,  mingled  with  anxiety,  which  too  often 
deadens  the  first  enjoyment  of  a  sea  voyage.  The 
Mediterranean  was  still  running  high  after  a  recent 
gale.  They  preferred  to  stay  in  their  berths  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  going  on  deck  now  and  then 
to  breathe  the  fresh  and  bracing  air,  free  from  all 
defilement  by  men  and  their  civilization. 

The  enchantment  began  at  Port  Said.  Monique 
had  never  been  in  the  East.  She  knew  nothing  of  the 
indescribable  sunlight  or  of  that  perpetually  warm 
and  scented  air  which  clears  away  every  worry,  every 
grief,  relaxes  the  nerves,  and  makes  it  a  sensuous 
delight  to  breathe,  to  see,  to  be  alive. 

The  ship  glided  through  the  Suez  Canal.  Evening 
fell.  A  heavenly  glow  of  blue,  gold,  and  mauve  light 
filled  the  sky  to  the  boundless  horizon.  A  line  of 
pink  flamingoes  flapped  lazily  above  the  ship.  On 
the  pale  sand  by  the  margin  of  the  waterway,  camels 
laden  with  bright-coloured  packets  filed  along,  led 
calmly  by  biblical-looking  drivers  clad  in  dignified 
and  flowing  burnoos. 

Monique  recalled  suddenly  an  image  of  the  black 
crowd  in  a  street  of  the  metropolis:  the  top-hats,  the 
umbrellas,  the  dirty  papers  on  muddy  pavement.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  had  left  a  prison  behind  and 

[53] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


was  returning  to  a  normally  free  existence.  As  for 
Ming-ni,  he  had  that  passionate  love  of  nature,  and 
that  poetic  comprehension  of  her  beauties,  which  are 
characteristics  of  the  Chinese  temperament.  For  the 
first  time,  both  of  them  forgot  completely  those  dif- 
ferences of  race  and  education  which,  in  spite  of  their 
love,  were  always  between  them.  Their  intellectual 
delight  added  a  powerful  charm  to  their  physical  and 
moral  happiness. 

The  month  was  March,  when  the  monsoon  changes 
from  north-east  to  south-west.  It  often  happens  then 
that  for  a  whole  month  hardly  a  breath  of  wind  comes 
to  disturb  the  calm  of  the  water.  They  were  lucky 
enough  to  cross  the  Red  Sea  and  the  Indian  Ocean 
during  one  of  these  periods.  For  twenty  days  the 
sea  remained  a  limitless  sheet  of  ultramarine.  In  the 
shade  of  the  awning  which  covered  the  deck,  the  burn- 
ing darts  of  sunlight  glinted  from  copper  hooks.  A 
mild  breeze  caressed  the  brow  like  an  amorous  breath. 
Flying-fishes  passed  swiftly;  some  even  fell  on  the 
deck.  The  world  and  its  cares  were  inexistent. 

Each  port  of  call  brought  its  new  wonder.  Moni- 
que  developed  a  poetic  sensibility  which  gave  her 
joys,  delights,  of  an  order  hitherto  unknown.  In  Cey- 
lon they  stayed  for  several  days.  The  sweetness  of 
the  air,  the  smell  -of  flowers  and  perfumes,  mingled 
with  the  indefinable  native  odour  which  pervades  the 
island,  stirred  her  deeply.  They  remembered  es- 
pecially one  night  on  which  the  moon  rose  before 

[54] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


they  left  the  hotel  at  Mount  Lavinia,  a  few  miles  from 
Colombo.  The  white  and  mysterious  light  was  so 
strong  that  they  could  distinctly  make  out  the  line  of 
the  coast.  The  surf  broke  in  long,  even  waves  on  the 
sand  beach.  Behind,  a  forest  of  tall  cocoanut  trees 
bent  toward  the  sea,  their  graceful  heads  slowly  nod- 
ding in  the  wind.  Under  the  trees,  round  a  fire  which 
now  and  then  burst  from  smouldering  into  great 
flames,  was  a  group  of  natives,  some  lying  down,  some 
erect  and  singing  one  of  those  vague  and  haunting 
melodies  which  infallibly  set  travelers  dreaming, 
though  they  lose  all  their  magic  when  performed  to  an 
opera-house  audience. 

A  boatman  offered  to  carry  Ming-ni  and  Monique 
back  to  Colombo.  They  accepted  his  offer,  and 
boarded  the  strange  craft.  The  sail  hoisted,  they  got 
under  way,  rocking  gently  on  the  swell.  The  silence 
of  the  nocturnal  sea  brooded  over  everything.  In  the 
sky  a  light,  alternately  white  and  red,  flashed  from 
the  great  lighthouse.  Monique  was  nestled  in  the 
arms  of  her  husband.  She  said  softly,  in  an  uneven 
voice:  "We  will  never  go  back  to  Europe — never, 
never!" 

Ming-ni,  tactful  and  deft  as  ever,  did  not  violate  her 
mood.  Against  his  shrewder  judgment,  he  answered: 
"Never!  We  have  finished  with  the  lies  and  con- 
ventions of  Western  life." 

The  thousand  lights  of  the  city  appeared.  They 
ascended  the  gangway  of  the  liner. 

[55] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


More  and  more  enchanted  grew  Monique.  They 
followed  the  coast  of  the  Sund  Islands,  from  which 
drifted  a  smell  of  greenhouse  and  humus,  prevading 
all  the  ship.  Next,  Singapore  with  its  broad  avenues, 
its  moist  and  rank  vegetation.  Then  Saigon,  the  city 
of  gardens,  its  river  bordered  with  mangroves. 
Hong-kong  at  last,  the  Gate  of  China,  the  opening 
arch  of  this  new  world,  with  its  harbour  unique  in  all 
the  world,  shut  in  on  one  side  by  the  curve  of  the  high 
island,  on  which  the  houses  seemed  to  be  suspended 
in  air  against  a  background  of  trees,  and  on  the  other 
side  by  the  low  factories  of  Kowloon  and  the  main- 
land. 

Walking  through  the  city,  they  came  to  the  flower- 
market.  Hundreds  of  Cantonese  women  were  there, 
gaudily  painted,  dressed  in  lively  colours — pink, 
blue,  red,  or  green — behind  their  stalls.  These  were 
heaped  with  the  most  splendid  flowers.  The  intoxi- 
cation of  their  perfumes  drenched  the  air.  Buyers 
and  sellers  chattered  gaily  in  the  peculiar  accent  of 
the  Cantonese,  who  invariably  seem  to  be  talking  with 
whole  swarms  of  crickets  in  their  mouths. 

The  next  day  the  steamer  stopped  at  Amoy,  set  on  its 
deep  blue  bay  dotted  with  verdant  islands.  They  ar- 
rived just  as  the  sun  was  setting.  All  the  junks 
of  the  fishermen  were  putting  in.  The  wind  filled 
their  outlandish  sails,  made  of  straw  matting  in  the 
form  of  bats'  wings.  Their  lofty  prows  and  poops 
were  carved  and  painted.  Enormous  and  staring 

[56] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


white  eyes  were  represented  on  each  side  of  the  bow — 
for  how,  without  eyes,  was  a  ship  to  see  her  way? 
The  crew,  half  naked,  thin  and  sinewy,  pigtails  tied 
closely  round  their  skulls,  cheered  the  liner  as  they 
sailed  by.  Their  savage  faces  frightened  the  Euro- 
pean passengers.  Fishermen  in  ordinary  times,  pir- 
ates on  occasion,  these  folk  of  the  coast  have  no  homes 
on  land.  They  are  born,  they  live,  they  die  on  board 
their  vessels.  The  authorities  have  no  jurisdic- 
tion over  them.  They  are  the  free  citizens  of  the 
sea. 

One  more  day  brought  the  travellers  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Yang-tse.  The  banks,  low  and  grey,  appeared 
just  above  the  line  of  the  viscous  yellow  waters.  The 
steamer  went  up  the  Shanghai  River.  Soon  the  first 
houses,  docks,  factories,  and  other  hideous  excre- 
scences of  Western  life  came  into  view.  A  black  pall 
of  smoke  and  dust  covered  the  city.  Monique  felt  a 
curious  sadness.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  com- 
ing down  to  earth  after  a  sojourn  in  paradise. 

They  went  to  a  European  hotel,  where,  until 
Ming-ni  produced  his  card,  they  were  received  rather 
coldly.  Monique  was  astonished.  But  she  was  still 
more  surprised  when,  later,  she  saw  at  the  gate  of 
the  Public  Garden  a  signboard  bearing  the  words, 
"Chinese  keep  out."  She  did  not  ask  for  an  explana- 
tion, for  fear  of  offending  her  husband;  but  she  no- 
ticed how  the  Chinese  seemed  to  be  despised  in  their 
own  country,  and  she  was  indignant.  Ming-ni,  an- 

[57] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


swering  her  unexpressed  thought,  said  simply:  "We 
haven't  enough  warships  and  soldiers.  Inferior  men 
respect  nothing  but  material  strength — and  our  cul- 
ture is  based  on  hatred  of  armies  and  war.  We  shall 
have  to  suffer  long  before  we  have  brought  Europe  up 
to  our  standard  of  civilization;  before  they  abandon 
their  present  methods  and  manners  of  wild  beasts." 

On  the  same  evening  they  embarked  on  one  of  the 
Chinese  steamers  which  ply  the  Yang-tse.  They 
were  asleep  when  the  steamer  started.  In  the  morn- 
ing they  were  awakened  by  a  knocking  at  the  door  of 
their  stateroom.  A  Chinese  servant  in  a  long  blue 
robe  entered  and  obsequiously  took  their  orders  for 
breakfast.  Their  stateroom  was  on  deck.  Through 
its  open  door  streamed  the  pure  light  of  a  clear  and 
vivid  day.  Beside  the  yellow  river,  here  almost  two 
miles  wide,  rose  rounded  hills  covered  with  a  rusty 
grass.  Over  these  silent  and  deserted  shores  reigned 
a  supreme  quietude.  Sometimes  a  junk  with  high 
and  narrow  sails  passed  by.  A  pagoda  appeared  on 
a  promontory,  a  temple  in  the  shade  of  pines.  When 
they  neared  the  great  cities,  Nanking,  Kiu  Kiang,  and 
the  rest,  the  river  traffic  increased.  Innumerable  lit- 
tle craft  plied  up  and  down.  The  low  houses  on  the 
banks  began  to  be  closely  massed.  Over  the  low, 
broad  expanse  of  flat  grey-tiled  roofs  towered  the 
sombre  battlements  of  the  city  walls. 

After  four  days  and  nights  they  stopped  at  Hankow 
and  transferred  themselves  to  a  smaller  steamer. 

[58] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


The  river,  still  more  than  a  mile  wide,  was  covered 
with  junks  and  boats  of  every  description.  Three 
more  days  and  nights  of  this  inland  navigation 
brought  them  to  Y-chrang. 


[59] 


VII 

AT  Y-chrang  they  went  to  a  Chinese  inn.  There 
it  was  that  Monique  made  her  first  attempt  to 
converse  in  Chinese.  Since  her  marriage  she  had 
faithfully  studied  the  language,  guided  and  helped  by 
her  husband.  Not  being  hampered  by  the  official 
pedagogic  methods  to  which  the  students  in  certain 
universities  are  indebted  for  their  perfect  ignorance 
of  foreign  tongues,  even  after  ten  years  of  consci- 
entious effort,  she  had  made  rapid  progress. 

She  was  very  happy  at  finding  that  she  could  make 
herself  understood.  While  her  husband  was  paying 
a  call  to  the  Governor  of  the  city,  she  coaxed  the  inn- 
keeper's wife  to  go  out  and  buy  her  a  Chinese  cos- 
tume. On  Ming-ni's  return  she  surprised  him  with 
a  Chinese  dinner-table,  presided  over  by  a  fair-haired 
pseudo-Chinese.  She  was  so  droll,  with  her  dress  too 
short  and  too  small,  that  he  could  not  help  joining 
in  her  merriment.  When  they  started  on  again, 
though,  they  resumed  European  dress,  for  Monique 
could  find  no  suitable  Chinese  garments  ready-made. 

This  time  they  chartered  a  seaworthy  and  com- 
fortable junk,  their  quarters  in  which  they  could  thor- 
oughly enjoy.  They  had  two  cabins  finished  in 

[60] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


carved,  gilded,  and  varnished  woodwork.  Every- 
thing was  of  an  immaculateness  known  only  to  sail- 
ors. Little  window-like  portholes  opened  no  more 
than  two  or  three  feet  above  the  water-line.  On  the 
fore-deck  the  men  worked  at  oars  or  warping-line,  or 
at  the  sails  when  the  wind  served. 

Monique,  in  spite  of  her  efforts,  of  course  had  not 
an  extensive  knowledge  of  either  the  language  or  the 
etiquette  and  customs.  Ming-ni  had  occasion  to  he 
thankful  that  they  had  retained  their  foreign  garb. 
He  could  read  the  eyes  of  the  crew  and  of  the  pas- 
sers-by on  shore;  and  he  knew  that  in  every  mind  was 
the  same  thought:  "These  foreigners  are  mad. 
They  do  not  know  the  first  word  of  social  usage  or 
true  righteousness.  But  so  long  as  they  are  not  dan- 
gerous, we  don't  care  what  they  do  or  say."  And  the 
crew  laughed  indulgently  when  Monique  tugged  at 
the  hawser  along  with  the  men  at  a  stretch  of  rapids, 
or  asked  questions  of  the  bystanders. 

Her  love  for  China  became  passionate.  There  was 
in  her  mind  the  perpetual  contrast  between  the  lives 
of  her  friends  and  her  own  life,  between  the  depress- 
ing banality  of  Western  streets  and  the  vivacity  of 
everything  she  saw  here.  The  landscapes  filled  her 
with  admiration  and  wonder — this  immense  river 
shimmering  between  its  high  banks;  the  rapids  plung- 
ing in  great  combs  over  hidden  rocks;  the  distant  hills, 
each  with  a  splendid  pagoda  perched  on  its  summit. 
Everything  instantly  translated  itself  into  terms  of 

[61] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


description  for  her  letters  to  relatives  and  friends. 
Without  realizing  it,  she  was  fully  as  much  delighted 
to  have  seen  what  her  family  and  acquaintances  had 
not  seen,  and  perhaps  never  would  see,  as  to  have  be- 
held these  exquisite  and  unforgettable  landscapes  for 
their  own  sake. 

At  Krei-chow-foo  they  left  the  river  for  the  road. 
While  they  were  waiting  at  the  inn  for  their  new 
means  of  conveyance,  a  servant  announced  a  foreign 
missionary.  A  grey-bearded  Catholic  priest  in  a 
black  cassock  came  in.  He  was  taken  aback  at  see- 
ing Ming-ni.  "Excuse  me,"  he  said  in  Chinese;  "I 
was  told  that  two  foreigners  had  come.  As  I  am 
alone  here,  I  wanted  to  avail  myself  of  such  an  op- 
portunity to  see  countrymen  of  my  own." 

"Don't  apologize,  I  beg  of  you,"  answered  Ming-ni 
in  French.  "We  are  from  France,  and  very  pleased 
we  are  to  see  you.  Pray  be  seated." 

The  servant  brought  a  cup  of  tea.  They  chattered 
about  themselves,  about  Europe.  Then  Ming-ni 
asked  the  priest  for  the  latest  news  of  the  region. 

"It  is  not  too  cheerful,"  said  the  old  man.  "The 
people  of  the  province  are  not  pleased  about  the  pro- 
jected railway.  They  are  beginning  to  be  very  hos- 
tile to  foreigners." 

"And  quite  justifiably,"  said  Monique.  "It  is 
really  grotesque  to  impose  these  hideous  Western 
ideas  on  such  a  splendid  country." 

The  priest  looked  at  her  with  visible  amazement. 
[62] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"To  be  sure,  very  few  countries  in  the  world  are  so 
beautiful  as  this,"  said  Ming-ni.  "Yet  the  railway, 
though  dirty  and  ugly,  is  very  useful — especially 
when  it  rains.  Moreover,  if  His  Majesty  the  Em- 
peror (ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  years!)  has 
decided  on  the  construction  of  a  railway  here,  then  it 
is  for  the  best.  The  rulers,  when  they  have  consulted 
together  and  decided,  have  done  their  duty  as  rulers. 
It  is  for  the  people  to  obey  and  say  nothing.  If  the 
rulers  did  not  employ  the  best  of  their  faculties, 
Heaven  would  take  back  the  power  It  has  given  them, 
and  they  would  fall  helpless." 

They  invited  the  missionary  to  stay  and  dine  with 
them.  During  the  meal  he  could  not  forbear  giving 
Monique  a  few  pieces  of  prudent  advice.  "You  are 
now  about  to  go  into  the  remotest  part  of  China,"  he 
said.  "The  people  here  have  not  yet  acquired  that 
equal  indifference  to  good  and  to  evil  which  charac- 
terizes the  modern  spirit.  Their  moral  fibre  and  their 
courage  are  unimpaired.  Very  strict  principles  gov- 
ern what  one  is  to  do  and  not  do;  and  to  these  every 
one  without  exception  must  conform.  When  an  ac- 
tion seems  to  them  at  variance  with  their  code,  whether 
it  comes  from  a  potentate  or  a  plain  citizen,  they  take 
the  law  into  their  own  hands  and  forthwith  punish  the 
culprit." 

He  went  on  to  tell  them  how  one  of  his  own  col- 
leagues had  been  killed  recently.  "He  came  from 
the  West,  and  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  stay  he  be- 

[63] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


gan  to  preach  vehemently  against  the  absurd  preten- 
sions of  the  Buddhist  priests  to  be  able  to  procure  rain 
by  their  pagan  practices.  The  people  were  per- 
suaded that  he  would  displease  the  God  of  Rain,  and 
— they  stoned  him  to  death." 

"How  dreadful!"  said  Monique.  "After  all,  he 
was  quite  right." 

"Of  course  he  was  right,"  assented  the  missionary. 
"How  could  such  heathen  rites  make  any  difference  to 
the  rainfall?  But  here,  taught  by  previous  exper- 
iences, we  let  them  offer  up  their  public  sacrifices. 
Naturally,  nothing  happens.  When  the  whole  city 
has  recognized  as  much,  we  announce  that  we  too  are 
going  to  offer  prayers.  We  have  a  grand  procession. 
Of  course,  it  is  not  long  before  the  results  appear,  the 
dry  season  being  practically  over  by  that  time,  any- 
way; the  rain  comes,  and  we  get  a  good  many  con- 
verts." 

He  went  away  at  length,  meditating  a  letter  to  that 
one  of  his  colleagues  who  lived  nearest  to  Ming-ni's 
birthplace,  to  the  end  of  procuring,  if  possible,  the 
Christian  baptism  of  any  future  children  of  the  young 
couple. 

The  travellers  started  again  on  the  morrow.  The 
sedan-chair  with  its  four  porters  seemed  to  Monique 
the  most  agreeable  means  of  transport  she  had  ever 
experienced.  But  the  "Oh,  oh! — oh,  oh!"  of  the 
coolies  and  the  gentle  swaying  motion  of  the  chair 
sent  her  to  sleep  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time. 

[64] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Perhaps  she  had  begun  to  grow  accustomed  to  the 
scenery — the  hills,  the  roads  with  their  great  stone 
slabs,  the  pagodas,  the  rice-fields — though  her  en- 
thusiasm for  them  remained  the  same. 

Her  husband,  meanwhile,  was  growing  more  and 
more  apprehensive.  He  had  almost  forgotten  the 
dangers  of  travel  in  that  remote  part  of  the  country, 
where  riot  and  brigandage  are  always  going  on,  either 
separately  or  together.  Brought  up  in  this  very  re- 
gion, he  had  thought  of  such  a  state  of  affairs  as  nor- 
mal. He  had  always  travelled  alone  before,  and  he 
was  not  afraid  for  himself  now.  But,  for  the  first 
time,  he  was  experiencing  the  sensation  of  constant 
anxiety  for  the  well-being  of  another;  of  having  to 
hide  his  fears  from  that  other  so  that  she  should  never 
know  of  them,  to  lie  awake  in  order  to  watch  over  her. 
He  remembered  now,  with  sudden  horror,  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  European  traveller  who,  pursued  by  his 
insufficiently  paid  and  enraged  porters,  had  stumbled 
on  the  uneven  ground,  fallen,  and  been  beaten  to 
death  with  the  long,  heavy  pien-tang  with  which  the 
men  carry  their  loads.  But,  as  luck  would  have  it, 
the  floating  population  on  the  road  was  fairly  calm. 
Their  only  unpleasant  experience  was  being  insulted 
by  a  group  of  muleteers  whom  they  met  in  a  narrow 
path. 

They  arrived  at  last  at  Chreng-krow,  where  the  par- 
ents of  Ming-ni  lived  in  the  luxu  rious  privacy  of  their 
estate,  The  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers.  The  young 

[65] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


man  began  to  breathe  more  freely — this  long,  trying 
journey  was  drawing  to  its  end  without  mishap. 

Monique  surveyed  with  great  curiosity  this  city  of 
her  husband's  birth.  The  towering  gates  once  passed, 
they  proceeded  along  the  main  street.  This  thor- 
oughfare cut  the  city  into  two  distinct  sections.  It 
was  the  nucleus  of  all  the  life  and  activity  of  the 
place.  The  low  houses,  each  with  a  diminutive  story 
under  its  projecting  roof,  formed  an  uninterrupted 
vista  of  open  shops,  in  which  were  displayed  a  thou- 
sand varieties  of  wares.  The  carved  and  gilded  sign- 
boards, bearing  poetic  ideograms  in  relief,  swung 
creaking  in  the  breeze.  It  was  market  day.  The  en- 
tire population  of  the  neighbourhood  had  turned  out, 
some  to  sell  their  produce,  others  to  buy;  some  car- 
ried their  loads,  others  came  with  pack-animals, 
wheelbarrows,  and  a  motley  of  conveyances.  The 
passage  was  almost  blocked  by  the  chattering  and 
good-natured  populace.  As  it  was  afternoon,  their 
faces  were  flushed  with  the  fumes  of  the  crude  native 
alcohol.  Voices  were  raised  in  lively  altercation. 

The  bystanders  paid  no  great  attention  to  the 
screams  of  the  porters,  and  several  were  jostled  aside 
by  the  shafts  of  the  two  sedan-chairs.  The  curtains 
of  the  chairs  had  been  lowered,  and  Ming-ni  had  or- 
dered his  chrai-kwan  to  put  on  the  blue  button,  sign 
of  his  master's  rank.  The  people,  recognizing  the 
presence  of  a  high  functionary,  did  not  grumble 
much.  As  for  the  porters,  they  were  in  high  feather. 

[66]  ' 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


At  last  they  had  reached  the  end  of  their  long  and 
exacting  journey.  They  had  celebrated  the  day  by 
one  or  two  extra  cups  of  liquor;  and  now  they  were 
exchanging  rough  jests  among  themselves  and  with  the 
passers-by,  and  laughing  boisterously. 

In  this  state  of  exhilaration,  they  failed  to  notice  an 
aged  man  who  was  crossing  the  street  in  front  of  them. 
They  ran  into  him  with  the  chair,  and  he  fell  down. 
Insults  and  high  words  were  showered  on  the  porters, 
and  they  were  brought  to  a  halt.  The  poor  old  man 
was  unable  to  get  up. 

Nothing  would  have  happened,  probably,  had  not 
one  of  the  porters  foolishly  called  out:  "Way! 
Give  way  for  the  Great  Men  of  the  Ocean!"  At 
these  unlucky  words  the  clamour  redoubled.  A  tall 
red-faced  man,  at  least  half  drunk,  tore  down  the 
curtain  of  Monique's  chair  and  howled:  "The  Devils, 
the  Devils  of  the  Ocean!  The  red-haired  Devils! 
Kill!  Strike!  Kill!" 

An  excited  mob  rarely  resists  an  appeal  to  murder. 
The  screams  of  "Kill,  kill!"  were  taken  up  by  every- 
body. The  porters  tried  to  start  ahead,  but  found 
their  way  blocked  by  the  crowd.  One  of  them 
slipped  on  the  smooth  pavement  and  fell.  That  was 
enough.  A  villager  struck  him  on  the  head  with  his 
stick  as  he  was  trying  to  get  up;  then  the  bystanders 
closed  in  round  him. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  that  the  chairs  were  definitely 
blocked,  Ming-ni  jumped  out,  ran  to  Monique,  helped 

[67] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


her  quickly  down,  and,  holding  her  tightly  by  the 
hand,  ran  with  all  possible  speed  into  a  narrow  side 
street,  doubling  almost  immediately  through  another 
alley.  In  a  trice  they  had  shaken  off  the  crowd.  He 
had  acted  so  promptly,  taken  such  quick  advantage  of 
the  commotion  round  the  fallen  porter,  that  few  even 
noticed  his  action.  Some  stones  whistled  past  their 
ears,  but  they  only  ran  the  faster,  and  presently  they 
were  alone  together. 

"And  that  poor  porter?"  asked  Monique.  "What 
will  they  do  to  him?" 

"Kill  him,  most  likely,"  answered  Ming-ni  laconi- 
cally. 

"But  we  must  go  back,  then,  and  save  him,"  she 
protested. 

"They  are  a  thousand,  and  we  are  two.  I  cannot 
see  you  fall  into  the  hands  of  those  drunken  brutes. 
Besides,  the  porters  ran  over  the  old  man:  it  is  all 
their  own  fault.  Let  us  get  home  as  fast  as  we  can." 

Monique  could  still  not  credit  the  idea  that  they 
were  in  actual  danger.  Also,  she  was  reassured  by 
her  husband's  calm  presence.  "This  is  not  exactly 
the  sort  of  reception  they  give  one  in  France,"  she 
said,  half-laughingly. 

"Oh,  in  Paris,  too,  it  happens  now  and  then.  Just 
remember  what  happened  to  those  two  women  who  first 
appeared  on  the  boulevards  wearing  those  hideous 
tight  skirts.  They  were  handled  pretty  roughly,  and 
if  they  hadn't  run  into  a  house  and  barred  the  door 

[68] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


they  would  probably  have  been  killed.  Mobs  are  de- 
praved and  dangerous  everywhere." 

He  listened  to  the  clamour,  which  still  did  not  sub- 
side. A  man  passed  them  at  a  run,  screaming  "Kill, 
kill!"  but  was  scared  off  by  a  gesture  of  Ming-ni,  and 
disappeared.  They  picked  their  way  as  fast  as  they 
could  toward  the  Palace,  keeping  to  back  streets  and 
alleys.  Then,  suddenly,  Ming-ni  remembered  that 
the  sole  entrance  to  his  father's  house  was  on  the  great 
square  which  was  crossed  by  the  market  street.  The 
crowd  would  certainly  have  blocked  the  gate.  He 
thought  of  asking  shelter  of  a  friend  of  his  father. 
But  who  would  recognize  him,  after  ten  years — es- 
pecially in  his  foreign  dress?  No,  their  sole  refuge 
was  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers.  His  father's 
wealth  and  prestige,  and  his  retinue  of  domestics, 
would  do  most  to  quell  the  riot. 

Anyway,  it  was  unthinkable  to  linger  in  the  streets. 
Already  they  were  probably  being  pursued,  and 
sooner  or  later  they  were  sure  to  be  discovered.  He 
decided  that  their  best  course  was  to  get  as  near  the 
gate  as  possible  without  being  seen,  and  then  to  rush 
across  the  square  without  giving  the  crowd  time  to 
collect  its  wits.  He  outlined  his  plan  to  Monique, 
who  still  persisted  in  taking  the  whole  episode  as  a 
sort  of  game  of  hide-and-seek. 

They  passed,  then,  with  the  greatest  caution,  along 
the  back  streets  until  they  were  just  opposite  the  Pal- 
ace. Then,  holding  each  other  tightly  by  the  hand, 

[69] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  .Dragon 


they  turned  the  corner  of  the  alley  and  ran  for  it, 
through  the  midst  of  a  howling,  roaring  mob.  The 
square  was  jammed  with  people. 

Now,  the  porters,  chrai-kwan  and  subordinates,  on 
seeing  the  fate  of  one  of  their  number,  had  immedi- 
ately tried  to  plunge  on  to  their  destination,  the  Pal- 
ace. The  rioters  had  followed  them,  and  now  sur- 
rounded the  gate,  which  the  porters  were  trying  in 
vain  to  force  open.  A  terrific  din  greeted  the  arrival 
of  the  two  fugitives.  The  thick  wall  of  maddened 
humanity  bore  down  upon  them.  It  was  too  late  now 
to  turn  back:  they  must  somehow  traverse  the  crowd 
and  reach  that  gate,  or  die. 

Ming-ni  shouldered  his  way  powerfully  through  the 
first  ranks  of  people,  who,  cowed  by  his  resoluteness 
and  violence,  gave  way  sullenly.  But  they  closed  be- 
hind the  pair,  and  the  other  ranks  ahead  stood  massed 
and  unyielding.  A  villager  clutched  at  Ming-ni's 
coat  and  tore  the  sleeve.  Sticks  and  pien-tang  were 
raised.  Stones  thrown  from  behind  struck  members 
of  the  crowd  in  front.  A  man  raised  his  cudgel 
against  Monique,  who  dodged  it  just  in  time. 
Ming-ni,  in  a  rage,  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  drew 
a  revolver,  and  fired  three  shots  point-blank  into  the 
mass.  Three  men  fell. 

Followed  an  instant  of  terror  and  fuddlement. 
The  crowd  opened.  Ming-ni  drew  his  wife  forward. 
The  porters,  hearing  the  shots,  understood  that  their 
master  was  there.  They  made  a  superhuman  effort, 

[70] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


pulling  and  pushing,  shouldering  and  trampling,  and 
with  their  aid  the  young  pouple  at  last  reached  the 
closed  gate. 

Ming-ni  and  the  chrai-kwan  shouted  the  gate-keep- 
er's name.  No  one  opened.  Stones  were  raining  on 
the  little  group.  Several  of  the  porters  were  cut  and 
bleeding.  Ming-ni  used  his  own  body  as  a  screen  for 
Monique,  who  was  now  thoroughly  terrified.  He  or- 
dered his  men  to  burst  in  the  gate;  but  despite  their 
most  frantic  efforts  the  timbers  remained  immovable. 
The  crowd,  fearing  the  revolver,  did  not  close  in,  but 
stones  continued  to  fly.  The  situation  looked  des- 
perate. Ming-ni,  who  feared  the  worst,  retained  two 
cartridges — one  for  Monique  and  one  for  himself. 
Presently,  when  the  mob  saw  that  he  did  not  fire 
again,  it  began  to  edge  closer. 

The  fateful  moment  had  come.  He  gripped  his 
weapon  more  tightly,  strained  his  wife's  body  closer 
to  his  own  with  an  encircling  arm.  .  .  . 


[71] 


VIII 

IN  the  garden  of  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers, 
at  the  moment  when  Ming-ni  and  his  wife  were 
entering  the  city,  reigned  the  deep  and  unruffled  se- 
renity peculiar  to  those  parts  of  the  world  in  which 
the  vain  and  febrile  unrest  of  Western  civilization  has 
not  yet  had  its  way.  Behind  the  three-tiered  roof  of 
the  Great  Gate,  which  stood  wide  open,  the  gate- 
keeper, in  a  blue  gown,  sat  on  a  post,  smoking  and 
following  with  dreamy  eyes  the  antics  of  his  two  little 
children  as  they  played  on  the  large  grey  square 
slabs  below. 

The  first  or  outer  courtyard  was  shaded  by  ancient 
pines,  the  twisted  and  writhing  trunks  of  which  har- 
boured the  nests  of  innumerable  squirrels  and  little 
birds.  Two  sides  of  this  courtyard  were  flanked  by 
low  houses  and  barns;  these,  closed  now,  were  re- 
served for  the  servants  of  guests  on  days  of  ceremony. 
A  portico  with  an  ornate  roof  gave  on  a  second  court- 
yard, also  planted  with  ancient  trees,  in  which  many 
servants  were  working  leisurely.  In  one  of  the  long 
rooms  on  the  western  side,  behind  open  windows,  a 
group  of  women  were  at  their  collective  task  of  em- 
broidering a  huge  design  on  silk.  Their  laughing 

[72] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


chatter  rose  above  even  the  crowing  of  some  jackdaws 
which,  perched  on  the  walls  and  the  peaks  of  the 
roofs,  were  settling  their  differences  in  spirited  de- 
bate. In  another  building  a  maker  of  furniture  was 
engaged  in  mending  a  chair.  While  he  worked,  his 
hammer  tapped  out  the  rhythm  of  the  popular  tune 
which  he  was  whistling.  In  still  another  house,  por- 
ters were  suspending  from  slings  a  sedan-chair  pol- 
ished to  the  last  degree  of  speckless  lustre. 

The  third  or  "Cinabar"  courtyard  was  surrounded 
by  the  most  beautiful  buildings  of  the  estate.  At  its 
farther  end  was  the  great  reception  hall,  whose  high 
and  heavy  roof,  covered  with  grey  tiles,  was  sup- 
ported on  columns  resplendent  with  black  and  red 
lacquer.  The  year  being  well  advanced  into  spring, 
the  high  panels  of  trellis-work  which  formed  the 
front  of  the  hall  had  been  taken  away.  In  the  shaded 
depths  of  the  vast  room  shone  heavy  chairs  of  ebony, 
high  screens  chiselled  and  chased,  and  rare  curios  on 
strangely  designed  cabinets;  and  there  was  a  krang, 
the  capacious  broad  sofa  on  which  low  tables  are  com- 
monly placed.  The  buildings  on  each  side  of  the 
great  hall  were  lower.  They  included  the  library, 
the  drawing-rooms,  the  dining-room,  and  the  private 
apartments  of  the  master.  In  the  middle  of  the  wide 
yard  a  large  square  pond  reflected  trees,  roofs,  and 
blue  sky — at  least,  it  did  so  whenever  the  mirror  of  its 
waters  was  not  ruffled  by  the  play  of  the  five-tailed 
fishes  which  lived  in  its  depths.  Among  the  trees, 

[73] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


enormous  porcelain  basins  of  bright  colours,  placed 
on  red  lacquer  stands,  held  plants,  flowers,  and  fishes. 
A  small  door  gave  entrance  to  the  apartments  of  the 
women.  Each  wife  had  her  own  pavilions  surround- 
ing her  own  courtyard. 

Farther  on  were  the  gardens,  so  oddly  planned  and 
so  labyrinthine  that  their  owner,  to  his  intense  delight, 
was  always  getting  lost  in  the  intricacy  of  the  paths. 
An  artificial  mountain,  surrounded  by  a  dark  thicket 
of  broad-leaved  banana  trees,  was  capped  by  a  kiosk, 
from  which  was  visible  the  whole  extent  of  the  garden, 
a  vista  of  low  roofs,  and — beyond  the  crenelated  city 
walls — a  horizon  of  blue  hills  floating  ethereally  in 
the  transparent  light.  At  the  foot  of  this  artificial 
elevation  was  a  large  pool  covered  with  lotus  and 
nelumbo  flowers.  A  clear  brook  meandered  from 
the  pool  through  a  succession  of  quaint  and  delightful 
prospects  under  loftily  arching  willows;  and  it  was 
spanned  at  intervals  by  red-lacquered  arched  bridges 
of  the  contour  known  as  "camel's-back." 

No  delight  was  lacking  in  this  place  of  delights. 
The  birds,  never  molested,  ate  fearlessly  from  the 
hands  of  the  women;  they  nested  everywhere,  and 
sang  without  ceasing.  At  dawn  they  celebrated  the 
daylight  by  a  general  concert.  Towards  mid-day, 
when  the  heat  was  most  enervating  and  soporific,  they 
would  still  begin  a  twitter  of  melody,  only  to  drowse 
and  leave  it  unfinished.  As  dusk  drew  on,  their  ex- 

[74] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


cited  chatter  made  a  confused  noise  like  that  of  a 
whole  orchestra  tuning  up. 

On  the  east  the  gardens  were  bounded  and  domi- 
nated by  the  Temple  of  the  Sacred  Mountains.  Its 
huge  roof,  covered  with  golden  tiles,  gleamed  in  the 
sun  amidst  the  fresh  green  of  the  tall  trees.  A  low 
wall,  beautified  by  its  trellised  gallery,  separated  the 
sacred  precincts  from  the  garden.  Roses  of  the  most 
brilliant  hues  covered  the  base  of  this  wall.  Peonies 
of  a  hundred  different  species  rivalled  each  other  in 
beauty  at  its  foot.  One  could  find  there  the  "  Golden 
Pavilion  "  with  its  innumerable  rays  of  fire  on  a  pur- 
ple background;  the  "Green  Butterfly,"  cut  into  a 
thousand  tiny  blades;  the  "Blue  Lion,"  with  large 
blue  stripes  on  violet  petals;  and  the  "Prince  of 
Poets,"  1  all  pink  and  golden. 

In  front  of  the  peonies  a  white-bearded  old  man,  tall 
and  slender,  was  now  meditatively  smoking  a  pipe, 
the  tiny  bowl  of  which  was  at  the  extremity  of  a 
bamboo  stem  more  than  a  yard  long.  A  young  girl 
with  laughing  eyes,  clad  in  the  blue  linen  of  servants, 
stood  beside  him. 

"Aya!"  she  was  saying.  "How  lovely  are  your 
flowers!  Well  may  my  mistress  be  proud  of  her 
father." 

"Ay,"  answered  the  old  man  softly,  "I  imagine  the 
Lord  Chen  will  be  pleased." 

!0r,  literally,  "Elegant  Genius." 

[75] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Pleased!"  repeated  the  young  girl  indignantly. 
''The  flowers  you  grow  for  him  are  his  greatest  pride. 
Don't  forget  that  it  was  because  of  your  talents  that 
he  changed  the  name  of  his  abode  to  'the  Palace  of  a 
Hundred  Flowers.' ' 

"Those  peonies,"  resumed  the  old  man,  hardly 
listening  to  her,  "really  do  have  an  intensity  of  color 
possessed  by  no  others." 

"And  if  the  Lord  Chen  were  not  filled  with  respect 
for  your  admirable  art,"  persisted  the  other  hotly, 
"he  would  not  deserve  that  the  genii  should  let  him 
have  you  as  gardener — you,  the  celebrated  poet  who 
was  accepted  among  the  first  rank  of  the  'Entered 
Scholars'  after  taking  the  examinations  at  the  capital." 

"Hush!"  said  the  old  man  mildly,  waving  his  hand. 
"Try  not  to  awaken  my  literary  ambitions.  For  thirty 
years  they  have  slumbered,  leaving  me  happy  and 
careless  the  while.  I  grow  the  most  beautiful  flowers 
hereabout.  And  sometimes  I  make  poems  which  are 
really  not  so  bad.  In  such  things  lie  true  happiness. 
Help  me,  rather,  with  those  ladders  yonder.  These 
roses  must  be  tied  up  again." 

"True  happiness!  True  happiness!"  grumbled  the 
little  maid,  while  she  was  placing  the  light  bamboo 
ladders  against  the  wall.  "But  in  the  meantime," 
she  said,  "your  daughter  Orchid  is  growing  up.  She 
is  wise  and  virtuous,  and  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  city. 
If  she  only  had  an  official  position,  the  Little  Elder 
Sister  would  certainly  find  a  noble  and  wealthy  hus- 

[76] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


band;  whereas  now  you  do  not  even  see  anybody." 
The  old  man,  already  mid-way  of  a  ladder,  stopped 
to  muse.  "My  daughter  Orchid — it  is  true.  You  are 
right.  It  would  have  been  better  for  her,  perhaps,  if 
I  had  asked  for  an  official  position. — But  no,  you 
understand  nothing  of  the  matter.  You  talk  just  like 
a  giddy  young  servant  who  objects  to  going  to  market 
on  foot  with  a  basket  because  she  thinks  she  ought  to 
go  in  a  sedan-chair.  The  Sage  reminds  us:  'Beauty, 
virtue,  and  moderation  in  desire  are  never  without 
their  reward ;  for  to  possess  them  is  to  possess  the  best 
of  all  things.'  " 

"If,"  retorted  the  girl,  "one  could  add  a  few  dishes 
of  swallows'  nests,  beche-de-mer,  and  bears'  paws, 
the  reward  would  be  more  in  evidence." 

"Red  Peony,  my  child,"  said  the  old  man  senten- 
tiously,  "you  are  stupid.  It  is  easy  enough  to  see  that 
you  are  a  woman.  For  you,  beauty  consists  in  fat- 
ness and  a  great  moon-face.  And  your  happiness 
is  solely  an  occasion  for  making  your  neighbors 
die  with  envy — more  particularly,  your  neighbors' 


wives. 

M 


Heigho!"  replied  the  other,  unabashed.  "The 
proverb  is  not  far  wrong  which  says :  'The  envy  of  our 
neighbors  is  a  mirror  in  which  we  perceive  our  own 
happiness'!" 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Say  no 
more.  You  make  me  tired.  You  had  better  go  and 
fetch  your  mistress.  And  do  you  not  forget  that, 

[77] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


because  of  my  blameless  life  and  our  most  wise  laws, 
we  are  held  in  such  great  honor  that  Orchid  my  daugh- 
ter, the  daughter  of  the  old  gardener,  may  be  chosen 
for  the  harem  of  the  August  Emperor  Himself  (may 
he  live  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  years!)." 

At  these  words  the  girl  knelt  down  mock-respect- 
fully and,  with  a  bow,  said,  laughing:  "My  deepest 
homage  to  the  father  of  our  Empress!" 

The  old  man,  between  vexation  and  amusement, 
climbed  down  the  ladder  and  raised  his  long  pipe 
admonitorily,  saying:  "Run  away,  impudent  little 
baggage !  or  I  will  have  your  ears  cut  off  for  speaking 
thus  lightly  of  His  Imperial  Majesty,  this  Car  of 
Light." 

The  little  servant  rose  and  fled,  still  laughing. 
Turning  her  head  to  see  if  her  master  were  following, 
she  quite  failed  to  notice  a  large  fat  gentleman  who 
was  approaching  pompously,  clad  in  a  brocade  gown 
and  upheld  under  the  arms  by  two  men.  He  smoked 
a  short  silver  pipe,  the  bowl  of  which  was  mounted 
above  a  flask  of  perfumed  water,  ornamented  with 
precious  stones.  At  each  inhalation,  the  smoke 
gurgled  through  the  liquid,  coming  fresh  and  sweet 
to  the  mouth.  His  round  face  beamed  with  content- 
ment. A  short  grey  pigtail  hung  from  the  back  of 
his  head;  his  forehead  was  clean-shaven.  Red  Peony, 
still  looking  back  at  her  master  and  laughing,  did  not 
see  the  newcomer  until  she  had  run  plump  against  his 
vast  breast.  Then  she  gave  a  little  scream  of  sur- 

[78] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


prise.     The  other  gasped ;  then,  recovering  his  breath, 
he  smiled  at  the  girl,  who  murmured  excuses. 

"Run  away,  little  one,"  he  said  playfully.  "If  I 
catch  you,  I  will  pull  your  hairs  out  one  by  one." 
Then,  greeting  the  old  man:  "Ah,  my  good  friend 
Wang!  Here  is  your  slave  up  to  some  mischief  again. 
Ten  thousand  happinesses,  0  Wise  Elder  Brother!" 

The  gardener,  seeing  him,  put  his  dress  to  rights 
and  made  as  if  to  kneel.  "I  touch  my  forehead  to 
the  ground,"  he  said.  "And  I  wish  you  peace  and 
prosperity." 

The  other  stopped  him  and,  in  his  turn,  threatened 
to  kneel.  "Rise!  Rise,  0  Wise  Friend!  I  also  touch 
my  forehead  to  the  ground." 

"How  could  I  stand  and  allow  you  to  kneel  before 
me?"  said  Wang  hastily. 

"Then  let  us  put  aside  the  rites,  0  Sage  Wang. 
And  how  are  you?" 

"Thanks  to  your  auspicious  influence,  my  health 
i?  good.  And  that  of  the  Great  Man  Chen?" 

"Your  protection  has  favored  me." 

While  they  were  exchanging  these  words,  the  two 
men,  one  thin  and  tall,  the  other  short  and  fat,  strolled 
toward  the  peonies.  "And  your  latest  marvels?" 
asked  Chen.  "Were  you  able  to  produce  the  delicate 
shades  that  you  were  experimenting  for?" 

"Here  are  the  superlatively  unsuccessful  results  of 
my  wasted  efforts,"  answered  the  other,  showing  his 
plants  with  an  assumed  modesty. 

[79] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Chen  raised  his  arms,  and  his  round  face  registered 
overwhelming  admiration.  "What  splendor!  What 
exquisiteness!"  he  cried.  "What  a  freshness  in  the 
tints!  What  infinite  grace  in  the  forms!  You  are 
indeed  the  Paragon  of  Gardeners.  I  shall  have  a 
temple  built  for  you,  where  your  statue  shall  receive 
fitting  sacrifice  to  the  sixtieth  generation."  He 
stopped  suddenly  with  an  inspired  look,  a  finger  on 
his  temple.  "But  I  feel  the  afflatus  of  poetry — "  He 
counted  on  his  fingers  and,  in  an  uneven  but  rhythmi- 
cal voice,  began: 

"The  peonies  are  red, 
The  tuberoses  white, 
The  sky  is  blue;  the  shadow  is  black.  .  .  ." 

He  stopped,  repeating  "The  sky  is  blue;  the  shadow  is 
black" ;  then  he  turned  upon  Wang  a  countenance  full 
of  melancholy.  "What  after  that,  0  Wise  Friend?" 
he  asked.  "Alas,  my  poetical  inspirations  never  take 
me  very  far.  I  nearly  always  break  down  by  the 
third  verse." 

The  old  man  had  listened  to  him  with  a  polite  at- 
tention. He  bowed.  "I  see,  I  see,"  he  said.  "Your 
poem  is  admirable.  I  will  try  to  finish  it,  if  you  will 
make  allowance  for  my  dullness."  Then,  without 
seeming  effort,  he  went  on  in  a  simple  and  harmonious 
tone,  and  in  perfect  rhythm: 

"The  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers 
Fills  with  sweetness  all  the  city. 

[80] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Wafted  from  the  bowers  of  its  pleasaunce, 

The  perfumes  bring  us  anew  their  gift  of  loveliness. 

"Pure  honey  is  the  odour  of  the  peonies ; 
The  pungency  of  tuberoses 
Exhales  itself  as  pious  incense 
From  earth's  lowly  shadows  to  the  blue  arch  of  the  sky. 

"The  empurpled  lotus  reflects  in  the  great  pool 
The  pride  of  its  sombre  and  slumbrous  beauty; 
The  jasmine  and  the  rose,  daughters  of  summertide, 
Trouble  the  hearts  of  the  young  girls  dreaming  at  their 
windows. 

"When  the  heat  of  the  day  is  past, 
The  Palace  charges  the  evening  breeze 
To  carry  to  the  Gods,  well-spring  of  all  power, 
The  tender  souls  of  the  dead  flowers." 

Wang's  fat  master  listened,  nodding  his  head.  He 
now  exclaimed:  "Marvellous!  Marvellous!  0 
Wise  Friend,  you  give  me  wonderful  inspirations! 
It  is  only  when  I  am  with  you  that  I  feel  myself  cap- 
able of  great  poetry."  Then,  turning  to  one  of  his 
servants:  "Did  you  hear?  You  are  not  to  forget  a 
word  of  this  masterpiece.  I  must  recite  it  to  some 
friends  this  very  evening,  over  a  cup  of  lukewarm 
wine."  Then,  turning  once  more  to  Wang,  with  deep 
feeling:  "Oh,  poetry!  What  an  exercise  for  great 
souls!  My  heart  was  heavy  when  I  came;  and  now 
it  is  light." 

"Your  heart  was  heavy?"  asked  Wang  sympa- 
[81] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


thetically.  "Evil  spirits" — he  spat  quickly  to  right 
and  then  to  left,  murmuring  "May  they  all  perish!" 
— "have  not  been  seen  in  the  Palace?" 

"Oh,  no!  My  ancestors  keep  them  from  us.  No. 
If  I  must  tell  you  everything,  my  home  is  unendur- 
able, for  my  First  Wife  renders  my  existence  very 
bitter." 

"Has  the  Virtuous  Wife  some  secret  illness? 
Women  are  often  of  a  sour  disposition  when  their 
health  is  not  good." 

"It  is  not  that  at  all,"  answered  Chen  despondently. 
"That  would  be  a  nothing.  She  is  simply  anxious  to 
see  our  eldest  son,  Ming-ni,  who  is  on  an  official  mis- 
sion to  the  country  of  those  Western  savages — how  do 
you  call  them? — the  Fa-lang-hsi." 

"Yes — or  Fo-rang-sai. — But  it  is  quite  enough  to 
upset  one  to  know  that  one's  son  is  among  such  wild 
and  uncivilized  people." 

"But  don't  you  think  that  I,  the  father,  have  a 
right  to  be  as  anxious  as  she  is?  I  hide  my  feel- 
ings: yet  I  am  exceedingly  anxious.  He  has  sent  a 
message  by  the  lightning-wires  to  announce  his  return. 
Since  then,  the  moon  has  twice  waxed  and  waned,  and 
still  he  does  not  come." 

"0  Lord  Chen,"  answered  Wang  gravely,  "you 
must  not  forget  that  the  winds  and  waters  are  ca- 
pricious. If  your  distinguished  heir  has  been  able 
to  escape  hitherto  the  dangers  of  all  the  wild  coun- 
tries in  which  he  has  twice  five  times  seen  the  spring 

[82] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


blossom,  he  will  be  able  to  come  back  unscathed  to 
the  place  of  his  Ancestral  Temple." 

"Such  is  my  own  feeling.  But  if  it  be  easy  for  a 
scholar  to  control  his  own  heart,  it  is  more  difficult 
for  him  to  appease  an  irritable  wife.  Still,  it  will 
all  come  out  happily,  I  trust." 

"I  promise  myself  much  enjoyment,"  said  Wang, 
"from  the  Young  Lord's  lively  accounts  of  the  cus- 
toms of  those  barbarians,  their  houses,  their  food, 
and  their  primitive  civilization  in  general.  They 
are,  in  some  particulars,  little  better  than  wild  beasts, 
it  appears!" 

"It  will  be  interesting  to  listen  to  him,  sitting  in 
one  of  the  garden  kiosks — the  more  so  because,  in 
one  of  his  last  letters,  he  mentions  casually  that  he 
is  to  bring,  among  his  effects,  a  foreign  woman;  prob- 
ably the  same  one  whom  he  took  into  his  house  some 
time  ago." 

"Really!"  said  Wang,  with  obvious  curiosity.  "A 
foreign  woman?  It  will  be  fascinating  to  watch  her 
— especially  as  the  rites  do  not  forbid  us  to  watch 
the  females  of  animals  and  of  savage  peoples." 

"I  wonder  whether  those  barbarian  women  are 
pretty,"  mused  Chen.  "I  almost  regret  not  having 
asked  him  to  bring  one  back  for  me.  I  must  admit 
that,  if  I  did  not,  it  was  only  on  account  of  the  Thorn- 
bush,  my  First  Wife.  She  has  an  invincible  preju- 
dice against  what  she  knows  nothing  about,  and  par- 
ticularly against  strange  persons.  Do  you  remem- 

[83] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


her  how  she  ordered  her  servants  to  strangle  that  little 
Annamese  whom  a  friend  from  the  Far  South  brought 
me  once?" 

"I  believe  you  mentioned  that  little  affair  to  me. 
I  must  admit  that  I  used  to  have  a  pretty  low  opinion 
of  all  those  Devils  of  the  Ocean.  But  it  seems  that 
they  are  not  all  alike;  and  my  own  ideas  have  changed 
a  good  deal  since  I  have  seen  so  much  of  the  for- 
eigner— an  Ing-ki-li-she,  he  calls  himself — who  lives 
in  the  temple  beyond  that  wall." 

"Ma-ken-hsi?  The  one  who  bores  holes  through 
the  hills  for  the  cars  that  spit  fire?  He  who  is  about 
to  begin  the  new  road  with  two  iron  ruts?" 

"Yes.  Personally,  he  is  incontestably  civilized. 
He  knows  the  rites,  and  every  night  the  lamp  which 
lights  his  open  book  is  still  burning  when  I  get  up  at 
midnight  to  cover  my  delicate  new  plants." 

"I  take  the  greatest  interest  in  his  welfare,"  said 
Chen.  "I  should  be  extremely  sorry  if  anything  hap- 
pened to  him.  You  know,  perhaps,  0  Elder  Brother, 
that  I  am  answerable  for  his  life  to  the  Governor  of 
the  city?  If  he  dies,  I  die — or,  at  least,  pay  a  heavy 
fine.  Accordingly,  I  have  him  guarded  day  and 
night.  It  is  a  great  source  of  anxiety  to  me.  It 
seems  the  stupid  populace  is  disaffected  by  this  pro- 
ject of  the  railway.  They  say  that  the  Dragon  of  the 
Earth  will  be  vexed  by  such  an  undertaking.  The 
muleteers  and  waggoners  are  also  very  angry,  because 
they  fear  to  lose  their  trade.  Already  the  Governor 

[84] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


has  posted  proclamations  everywhere,  strictly  enjoin- 
ing peace  and  order,  under  penalty  of  death. 
But  in  spite  of  everything,  rioting  has  begun 
already." 

"Bah!"  said  Wang  disdainfully.  "The  ignorant 
people  are  angered  and  appeased  as  easily  as  boiling 
milk  on  the  fire  rises  and  subsides." 

"Sometimes  the  milk  boils  over,"  commented  Chen. 

"The  will  of  our  Sacred  Emperor  always  has  been, 
and  always  will  be,  obeyed  by  those  sheep;  they  are 
not  worth  bothering  one's  head  about,"  answered 
Wang.  "But  about  those  barbarians:  has  the  Young 
Lord  written  you  of  the  strange  marriage  customs  of 
the  Far  West?  Our  neighbour  Ma-ken-hsi  asserts — 
and  for  my  part  I  can  hardly  believe  him — that  the 
bride's  parents,  so  far  from  receiving  in  gifts  the 
value  of  the  girl  whom  they  give  away,  have  to  offer  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  with  her.  Thus,  people 
without  money  are  unable  to  get  rid  of  their  daughters 
at  all." 

"My  son  did  allude  to  something  of  the  sort,  but  I 
cannot  believe  it,  either.  Why,  if  it  were  true," 
added  the  fat  old  man,  his  rotund  bulk  shaking  with 
laughter,  "it  would  mean  that  they  have  completely 
solved  the  problem  of  marriage — palliating  the 
woman  by  money,  and  administering  the  antidote 
along  with  the  poison." 

"Oh,  Great  Man  Chen,  how  can  you?"  protested 
Wang  with  a  mixture  of  sadness  and  indignation. 

[85] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Are  not  women  the  great  solace  of  our  life?  What 
should  we  do  without  them?" 

"True,  true!"  assented  the  other,  still  laughing. 
"But  you  can  afford  to  speak  lightly  of  the  subject. 
You  have  only  a  daughter,  and  she  is  known  as  a 
model  of  virtue,  wisdom,  and  agreeable  disposition." 

"My  daughter  is  silly  and  without  grace  or  beauty," 
answered  the  gratified  father  politely.  "But  she  has 
studied  the  doctrines  of  the  Sage.  She  understands 
her  duty  to  others." 

"My  Thorn-bush  of  a  Wife  knows  better  than  any- 
thing the  duty  of  others  to  herself,  and  to  her  family. 
And,  by  the  way,  she  is  up  in  arms  because  that  bar- 
barian woman  whom  my  son  has  with  him  has  not  as 
yet  given  him  a  child." 

"A  barren  woman  is  assuredly  the  curse  of  a  fam- 
ily. How,  without  children,  is  the  ancestral  worship 
to  be  carried  on?  How  can  the  family,  which  is  the 
basis  of  society  and  of  civilization  itself,  develop  and 
prosper?  Hence  the  obligation  to  keep  second  wives, 
in  order  to  have  as  many  children  as  possible." 

"Of  course,  Wise  Brother,"  said  Chen.  "But  that 
is  not  the  only  motive.  Your  love  of  flowers  has 
guarded  you  against  other  loves.  You  are  oblivious 
of  the  pleasure  of  being  surrounded  by  several  second 
wives  who  outvie  one  another  in  attentiveness  to  their 
master,  bringing  cushions  for  his  head  and  deftly 
preparing  his  fragrant  opium-pipe." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know!"  said  Wang.  "A  splendid  poet 
[86] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


has  sung  of  such  pleasures."  And  he  recited  mel- 
lifluously: 

"In  the  coolness  of  a  sumptuously  decorated  hall 
The  Emperor  reclines,  dressed  in  gold  and  in  purple; 
Round  about,  his  wives  are  standing,  daring  not  to  move — 
In  the  vast  silence  their  very  breathing  is  hushed. 

"He  opens  his  eyes.     The  favourite  rises 
With  languid  grace.     Her  half-open  dress 
Bares  her  shoulders  of  pink  and  white  jade, 
Like  to  snowy  peaks  in  the  roseate  dawn. 

"Her  slender  fingers  caress  the  great  lute. 
The  very  birds,  stricken  with  envy,  intermit  their  songs  to 

listen. 
Her  Lord  sits  erect,  looking  at  her  with  vaguely  troubled 

eyes. 

"Her  voice  rises  and  falls,  tender,  soft,  and  moving.  .  .  . 
She  has  sung.    A  hush  fills  the  hall  once  more. 
Yet  her  Lord  listens  still;  and  in  his  eyes  there  are  tears." 

"But,"  Wang  added,  "there  are  pleasures  of  which  I, 
personally,  am  indeed  forgetful.  My  wife  was  vir- 
tuous, but  of  no  great  beauty.  She  has  long  since  left 
me  for  the  Nether  Regions  below  the  Nine  Springs. 
Since  then,  I  am  free." 

"Happy  man!  thrice  and  five  times  happy!"  ex- 
claimed Chen  fervently.  "Nevertheless,"  he  con- 
tinued, "I  am  curious  to  know  this  foreigner,  and  I 
hope  that  the  women  of  the  Palace  will  be  kind  to  her. 
Has  not  the  Sage  admonished  us:  'Be  kind  to  those 
who  come  from  afar'?" 

[87] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


While  he  vtaa  pronouncing  these  words,  the  blond 
head  of  a  Westerner  appeared  above  the  temple  wall. 
His  blue  eyes  were  mild;  on  his  fresh,  clean-shaven 
face  a  grave  and  intellectual  look  made  him  appear 
somewhat  older  than  he  probably  was.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  khaki  jacket  and  riding-breeches.  He 
bowed  to  his  neighbour,  who  had  just  noticed  his  pres- 
ence, and  said  in  correct  Chinese:  "May  the  home 
of  the  Great  Sage  be  for  ever  praised !  May  his  doc- 
trine be  studied  all  over  the  world,  bringing  with  it 
Reason  and  peace!  0  Great  Man  Chen,  ten  thou- 
sand happinesses!  0  Elder  Brother  Wang,  ten  thou- 
sand happinesses  to  you  also!" 

The  two  bowed,  waving  their  closed  hands  up  and 
down  and  repeating:  "Ten  thousand  felicities,  0 
Lord  of  the  Ocean!" 

The  foreigner  leaned  over  the  wall  and  said:  "I 
was  passing  along  this  wall,  dreaming  idly,  when  a 
favourable  wind  brought  to  my  ears  the  never  suf- 
ficiently praised  words  of  Krong  Foo-tse.  I  could 
not  resist  the  impulse  to  greet  two  sage  scholars." 

The  two  bowed  again,  and  Chen  answered  with 
some  gratification:  "Humble  student  as  I  am,  I  am 
happy  to  greet  you.  Is  your  health  still  good?  You 
must  know  that  I  take  the  greatest  interest  in  the  wel- 
fare of  your  person." 

"I  thank  you.     I  thank  you." 

"And  your  work?"  pursued  Chen.  "Do  you  find 
[88] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


that  you  can  go  about  freely?  The  ignorant  popu- 
lace does  not  interfere  with  you,  in  any  way?" 

"By  no  means." 

"It  transpires  that  there  is  an  increasing  opposition 
to  the  carts-that-spit-fire  and  the  iron  roads." 

"So  I  am  informed,"  answered  the  Westerner. 
"But  I  have  found  only  smiles  and  encouraging  words 
everywhere.  Assuredly  I  should  have  mentioned  it 
to  you,  had  it  been  otherwise.  I  know  that  your  kind- 
ness has  gone  so  far  as  to  answer  for  my  security.  If 
only  for  your  sake,  I  would  do  anything  to  prevent  a 
mischance." 

"My  life  has  no  importance  whatever,"  said  Chen 
negligently.  "But,  of  course,  my  loss  would  fall 
heavily  on  my  family." 

"That  I  can  very  easily  believe. — But  what  are 
these  miracles  which  I  see  at  the  base  of  the  wall? 
Another  creation  of  Uncle  Wang,  our  great  and  ven- 
erable artist  whom  the  whole  city  looks  up  to!" 

"Your  praise  far  exceeds  the  truth,"  answered  the 
old  man. 

During  this  interchange  they  were  becoming  in- 
creasingly aware  of  a  din  outside  the  wall.  It 
reached  their  ears  unmistakably  on  the  quiet  evening 
air.  Chen  listened  a  moment  anxiously,  but  polite- 
ness constrained  him  to  prolong  the  exchange  of  com- 
pliments. He  said:  "Are  they  not  prodigious? 
Our  Wang  is  an  Immortal,  and  will  some  day  fly 

[89] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


away  into  the  sky  on  a  bright  cloud.  Look  at  those 
superb  'Blue  Lions'!" 

"Nothing  could  equal  their  beauty,"  said  Macken- 
sie.  'These  glorious  flowers  must  inspire  you  to 
many  a  poem?" 

"Not  at  this  moment.  My  heart  is  anxious  and  my 
spirit  troubled.  My  eldest  son,  the  Little  Dog  of  the 
House,  whom  I  expect  every  day  from  your  Precious 
Country,  has  not  yet  come.  And  I  find  myself  won- 
dering if  he  will  be  greatly  changed." 

"But,  Great  Man,"  said  the  foreigner,  in  a  slightly 
protesting  tone,  "I  assure  you  that  we  are  not  so  un- 
civilized as  some  think.  Of  course,  our  recent  cul- 
ture could  not  compare  with  the  ancient  civilization 
of  your  own  glorious  nation.  Nevertheless,  among 
us  there  are  artists,  poets,  and  even  illustrious  garden- 
ers whom  kings  have  honoured."  And  he  saluted 
Wang,  who  bowed  in  acknowledgment. 

"But,"  said  Chen,  "you  yourself  have  adopted  our 
customs  here.  My  son  has  probably  done  the  same 
over  there." 

"All  cultures  are  alike  in  so  far  as  they  contain  the 
elements  of  true  civilization.  Your  son,  having 
learned  the  basic  moral  principles,  has  applied  them 
in  Europe  in  a  different  costume  and  with  a  differ- 
ent outward  manner;  but  the  principles  remain  the 
same." 

While  he  was  speaking,  the  noise  outside  redoubled. 
A  revolver  barked  three  times  rapidly.  This  made 

[90] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  three  stop  talking  and  look  at  one  another  in 
alarm.  Suddenly,  precipitate  steps  sounded  on  the 
gravel.  At  the  turning  of  the  path  appeared  an  el- 
derly lady,  stout  and  of  authoritative  manner.  She 
was  -walking  as  fast  as  her  dignity  allowed  her.  Her 
bound  feet  gave  her  the  mincing  strut  of  a  child  on 
stilts.  The  flowers  in  her  lustrous  hair  were  quiver- 
ing agitatedly.  The  flying  skirts  of  her  long,  pale 
mauve  silk  pelisse  revealed  the  thousand  pleats  of  her 
blue  skirt.  Numerous  servants  of  both  sexes  came 
behind  her,  chattering  confusedly. 

The  old  lady  stopped  short  on  sight  of  Chen,  and 
said  indignantly:  "Of  course,  you  would  be  here 
doing  nothing!  I  have  been  looking  for  you  every- 
where." 

Wang  had  knelt  at  once.  Bowing  his  head,  he  said 
ceremoniously:  "Ten  thousand  wishes  of  peace  and 
prosperity  to  the  Lady  of  the  Palace!" 

She  knelt  in  turn,  and  responded:  "Ten  thousand 
felicities!" 

Wang  bowed  again.  "A  thousand  wishes  of  long 
life  and  good  health!" 

The  First  Wife  seemed  exasperated,  but  she  an- 
swered: "Ten  thousand  good  wishes  and  thanks." 
Then  she  checked  herself  and  got  up.  "Enough! 
Let  us  forget  the  rites.  There  is  a  riot  at  the  Palace 
gate — the  stupid  people  are  going  to  kill  some  pas- 
sersby,  and  stones  are  raining  on  them.  The  pas- 
ersby  want  to  take  refuge  in  our  grounds." 

[91] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"I  can't  have  them,"  said  Chen  promptly.  "Tell 
them  to  go  away." 

"The  gate-keeper  was  just  in  time  to  close  the  door. 
— Where  is  the  absurd  fellow?  Where?" 

The  aged  gate-keeper,  who  earlier  in  the  afternoon 
had  been  blinking  dreamily  at  his  two  children,  now 
emerged  instantly  from  the  group  and  knelt  down. 
"Having  rceived  from  Your  High  Wisdom,"  he  be- 
gan— 

But  the  First  Wife  interrupted  him  and,  stamping 
impatiently,  snapped:  "None  of  your  silly  polite- 
ness! Hurry!" 

The  gate-keeper  gazed  at  her  with  amazement  and 
went  on:  " — the  order  to — " 

"Will  you  cut  it  short  or  won't  you?"  screamed  the 
old  lady  tempestuously.  "Yes  or  no?" 

"The  Very  Small  One  was  standing,  guarding  the 
Precious  Entrance,  when  suddenly  a  group  of  men 
came  near,  followed  and  stoned  from  behind  by  the 
mob.  I  was  just  in  time  to  bolt  the  door  before  they 
reached  the  threshold.  Disregarding  the  danger,  I 
looked  out  through  a  chink.  A  few  minutes  after- 
ward, I  saw  two  foreign  barbarians  come  through  the 
crowd,  shooting  right  and  left,  killing  several  hun- 
dred people — " 

"Foreigners?"  exclaimed  Mackensie.  "I  must  go 
to  help  them." 

"Stop,  stop!"  screamed  Chen  in  anguish.  "Stop! 
[92] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


It's  most  dangerous.  Don't  forget  that  I  am  surety 
for  you." 

"But  we  have  got  to  save  them.  Tell  your  man  to 
open  the  door  quickly." 

"Do  you  hear?"  said  Chen  to  the  gate-keeper. 
"Obey  at  once." 

The  man  looked  at  the  First  Wife  and  did  not 
budge.  She  had  made  such  an  authoritative  gesture 
as  would  almost  have  stopped  an  express  train  going 
at  full  speed.  She  now  turned  on  her  husband. 
"How  now?  You  would  have  the  door  opened? 
But  if  those  people  are  killed  here,  we  shall  be  ruined. 
And  if  the  mob  comes  in,  they  will  burn  and  loot 
everything.  A  fine  example  of  your  ignorant  weak- 
ness, your  criminal  indifference  to  my  health,  my  very 
life! — I  am  going  to  faint.  .  .  ." 

Chen  did  not  exactly  relish  being  scolded  in  public. 
He  turned  savagely  to  the  servants:  "And  who  are 
these  foreigners?  Did  you  ask  them  their  names, 
their  birthplace,  the  reason  for  their  presence  here?" 

The  gate-keeper,  ordinarily  responsible  for  the  re- 
ception of  visitors,  replied  humbly :  "I  did  not  think 
to  ask  them  for  their  visiting  cards;  though,  now  that 
I  think  of  it,  they  called  me  by  my  name.  How 
could  they  know  me?  They  must  be  sorcerers." 

"If  sorcerers,"  said  Chen,  suddenly  discovering  a 
ground  of  compromise  with  his  wife,  "they  must  stay 
outside.  If  they  are  killed,  you  must  immediately 

[93] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


drag  their  bodies  right  into  the  middle  of  the  square, 
so  that  nobody  shall  be  implicated  in  their  death." 

Mackensie  indignantly  interrupted  him.  "But,  0 
Great  Man,  have  your  gate  opened  at  once,  I  beg  of 
you.  I  will  go  myself  if  it  becomes  necessary." 

"No,  no!"  cried  Chen.  "Don't  do  that,  whatever 
comes!" 

He  was  spared  the  agony  of  finding  a  solution  for 
himself,  for  at  that  instant  the  clamour  increased  and 
seemed  to  draw  nearer.  "Everything  is  lost!" 
screamed  the  First  Wife.  "The  mob  has  broken  in 
the  door  and  is  already  in  the  Palace  grounds.  Let 
us  fly!" 

"But  where  to — where  to?"  asked  Chen  helplessly. 

"Here!"  said  the  old  lady — and  she  started  to 
climb  up  one  of  the  ladders.  "We  will  go  into  the 
temple." 

Chen  promptly  started  up  the  other  ladder.  Mack- 
ensie, on  the  other  hand,  was  standing  on  the  wall, 
about  to  jump  down.  The  servants  stood  in  a  hud- 
dled group,  howling  and  trembling,  while  Wang  tried 
frantically  to  keep  them  from  trampling  all  over  his 
flower  beds. 


[94] 


IX 

MING-NI,  shielding  his  wife  with  his  own  body, 
was  asking  himself  desperately  how  he  was  to 
save  her.  Monique  was  naturally  courageous. 
Protected  by  her  husband,  she  regained  her  spirit  and 
something  of  her  curiosity.  She  looked  alternately 
at  their  assailants,  still  wholesomely  awed  by  the  re- 
volver, and  at  the  door  by  the  gate.  And  suddenly 
she  saw,  lying  at  her  feet,  one  of  the  heavy  bars  of 
wood  which  are  used  to  fasten  the  doors.  It  must 
have  been  left  outside  when  the  gate-keeper  had  so 
hurriedly  shut  out  the  fugitives.  She  showed  it  to 
Ming-ni  and  asked  if  it  could  not  be  used  as  a  sort  of 
ram  to  break  in  the  door. 

"Too  small,"  said  Ming-ni,  after  one  look.  "It 
would  take  a  much  bigger  one  to  stave  the  whole 
thing  in.  But,"  he  cried  suddenly,  "since  this  thing 
is  out  here,  one  of  the  small  doors  must  be  unbarred!" 

He  led  his  wife  to  one  of  the  small  side  entrances 
which  always  open  at  either  side  of  the  main  gate- 
way. They  dragged  the  log  after  them.  Ming-ni 
made  sure  that  there  was  indeed  no  bar  on  the  inside; 
then,  lifting  the  heavy  piece  of  wood,  they  rammed  it 
as  hard  as  they  could  against  the  place  where  the 

[95] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


small  wooden  latch  must  be.  At  the  impact  they 
heard  an  unmistakable  noise  of  splintering  wood. 
The  lock  was  not  strong  enough  to  hold.  They  re- 
doubled their  exertions,  and  almost  at  once  the  door 
flew  open.  They  dropped  the  log  and  darted  in,  fol- 
lowed by  the  jubilantly  shouting  porters.  The  frus- 
trated mob  roared  behind  them.  The  most  inflamed 
members  of  the  crowd,  restrained  by  no  respect  for 
Chen,  plunged  in  after  the  fugitives;  but  the  majority 
very  well  knew  the  difference  between  assaulting  an 
unknown  foreigner  in  a  public  square,  and  invading 
the  palace  of  a  powerful  local  financier.  They 
stopped  and  went  back  in  sullen  silence  to  their  own 
affairs.  Most  of  them  were  even  discreet  enough  to 
go  straight  to  their  own  homes. 

Ming-ni,  his  face  covered  with  blood,  his  clothes 
in  shreds,  was  still  clutching  his  wife,  whose  dress 
was  also  disheveled,  but  who  had  suffered  hardly  a 
scratch.  He  led  her  at  once  across  the  two  outer 
courtyards  to  a  small  gate  which  opened  on  the  gar- 
dens. He  hoped  to  double  quickly  there  and  enter 
his  father's  quarters  while  his  pursuers  were  still 
baffled  among  the  intricate  paths  which  he  knew  so 
well.  Passing  through  the  garden  gate,  he  saw  two  or 
three  servants  running  in  front  of  him,  and  heard 
them  screaming:  "Great  Man,  the  rioters  are  in  the 
Palace!  We  can't  hold  them  at  bay!"  Ming-ni 
called  out  to  them,  asking  where  his  father  was  to  be 
found.  But  they  only  ran  the  faster,  still  shouting. 

[96] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Concluding  from  their  screams  that  they  were  bound 
for  wherever  old  Chen  might  be,  he  followed  them. 
In  a  moment  he  and  Monique  were  in  the  midst  of 
the  weeping  and  quaking  group  of  servants,  confront- 
ing the  family  itself. 

Chen  was  sitting  on  the  wall,  trying  to  hoist  him- 
self to  his  feet.  The  First  Wife  had  missed  a  step  of 
the  ladder  and  was  in  a  painful,  precarious,  and — it 
really  must  be  added — embarrassing  position,  in 
which,  nevertheless,  she  somehow  managed  to  retain 
a  good  share  of  her  dignity.  Mackensie  stood  on  the 
wall,  revolver  in  hand,  ready  to  shoot  whoever  laid  a 
finger  on  the  foreign  refugees. 

Stronger  than  the  sense  of  danger  was  the  habit  of 
a  lifetime.  Ming-ni  knelt  obsequiously  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder  on  which  his  father  was  perched,  and 
touched  his  forehead  to  the  ground.  Monique  stood 
and  stared,  amazed  at  his  behaviour.  She  had  never 
before  seen  him  in  such  a  posture,  though  she  knew 
that  it  was  a  customary  mode  of  salutation. 

The  old  couple  had  not  in  the  least  recognized  their 
offspring.  The  First  Wife,  red  with  anger,  howled 
at  the  top  of  her  lungs:  "Get  away,  Devils!  Get 
away,  Devils  of  the  Ocean!  Why  do  you  come  to 
pester  me  in  my  house?"  Then  she  turned  her  head 
to  look  at  the  rioters,  who  had  stopped  short  some 
distance  off,  as  frightened  of  Chen  as  of  Mackensie's 
pistol.  "And  you,  murderers,  bandits,  robbers,  be 
off  at  once!  If  you  stay  a  minute  more,  I  will  have 

[97] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


you  all  cut  into  a  thousand  pieces;  I  will  have  your 
guts  ripped  out!     Be  off  with  you!" 

The  less  infuriated  ones  turned  tail  without  waiting 
for  a  second  injunction.  The  remaining  ones  kept  on 
shrieking  "Kill,  kill!  strike,  strike!"  but  in  weakening 
and  spiritless  voices.  Another  sharp  command  from 
the  old  lady  convinced  them  that  it  might  be  danger- 
ous to  stay  longer,  and  they  slunk  away  as  quickly  as 
they  could. 

During  this  transaction,  Ming-ni  had  continued  to 
kneel  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder.  Monique,  standing 
beside  him,  was  divided  between  efforts  to  restrain 
her  laughter  at  the  sight  of  her  fat,  stubby  father-in- 
law  perched  on  the  wall,  and  a  mounting  shame  at 
having  exposed  to  the  common  curiosity  her  beautiful 
unbound  fair  hair  and  her  general  dishevelment. 

As  for  the  First  Wife,  she  was  still  screaming 
shrilly:  "Will  you  go  away  and  leave  us  to  our- 
selves, you  Devils  of  the  Ocean?  And  you,"  she 
added  to  the  servants,  "throw  them  outside!  I  am 
not  going  to  have  such  people  here." 

But  the  chrai-kwan,  an  old  servant  of  the  house- 
hold, had  come  forward  and  was  also  kneeling,  touch- 
ing his  forehead  to  the  ground  and  saying:  "He  is 
your  Precious  Heir,  the  Young  Lord,  0  Great  Nurse; 
he  is  the  Young  Lord!" 

"I  am  your  humble  son,  the  Little  Dog  of  the 
House,  your  Ming-ni,"  said  the  young  man.  "It  is 
I,  0  Father  and  Mother!" 

[98] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


These  words  at  last  caught  the  attention  of  the  two 
old  people.  They  looked  at  Ming-ni. 

"I  recognize  him!"  cried  Chen  from  aloft.  "Ten 
thousand  happinesses,  my  dear  child !  Ten  thousand 
happinesses!" 

"How  now!"  said  the  old  lady,  in  stupefaction. 
"Is  it  indeed  you?  Where  is  your  Chinese  robe? 
And  your  hair?  Stand  up,  stand  up  at  once!" 

The  old  man  descended  labouriously  from  his  po- 
sition on  the  ladder  and,  approaching,  embraced  his 
son,  at  the  same  time  whispering  in  his  ear:  "This 
woman  of  yours  is  charming — charming,  you  rogue! 
But  you  are  not  very  nice  in  that  foreign  disguise." 

"How  can  you  shake  him  like  that?"  demanded  his 
wife  indignantly.  "Don't  you  see  that  he  is 
wounded?"  She  had  at  last  extricated  herself  from 
the  ladder.  She  patted  her  son  gently  on  the  back. 
At  the  same  time  she  said  to  him,  sotto  voce:  "She 
is  simply  hideous,  that  woman!  Why  did  you  bring 
her?  And  she  has  no  children?  She  must  be  ill." 

Monique,  who  was  beginning  to  be  impatient,  came 
to  Ming-ni  and  touched  his  arm.  "Don't  you  think  it 
is  high  time  you  introduced  me  to  your  parents?"  she 
asked. 

Ming-ni  took  her  hand,  bowed  to  his  parents,  and 
said:  "Here  is  the  humble  servant  of  your  house." 
Then,  to  his  wife:  "Kneel  quickly  and  touch  your 
forehead  to  the  ground  nine  times." 

Monique  was  taken  aback.  She  knew,  of  course, 
[99] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  forms  of  greeting  used  in  China,  but  she  had  never 
quite  realized  that  she  might  be  expected  to  practise 
them.  The  habit  of  a  lifetime,  a  sort  of  absurd 
shame  at  exhibiting  herself  in  such  a  position — per- 
haps, too,  something  of  the  contrariety  which  lurks 
in  all  of  her  sex — prevented  her  from  complying  with 
her  husband's  order.  She  stepped  forward  instead, 
and  held  out  her  hand. 

The  First  Wife,  who  knew  nothing  whatever  of 
Western  customs,  looked  curiously  at  the  hand  thus 
proffered  and,  turning  to  her  son,  asked:  "What  on 
earth  does  she  want?" 

"It  is  the  most  respectful  form  of  greeting  in 
Europe,  mother.  They  shake  hands." 

Chen  had  observed  the  scene.  He  now  held  out 
his  own  plump  fingers,  saying:  "Ten  thousand  days! 
Be  welcome  in  our  house."  But  the  First  Wife  shook 
hands  only  with  the  greatest  reluctance,  saying: 
"Now  go  and  wash  your  hurts.  After  that  you  will 
change  into  decent  clothing.  The  Fifth  Wife  of  your 
father,  who  is  very  tall,  shall  provide  some  gowns  for 
this  girl.  Then  we  will  go  to  the  Hall  of  the  Ances- 
tors in  order  to  announce  your  home-coming  before 
the  Sacred  Tablets." 

While  Chen  was  chattering  with  Monique,  the  old 
lady,  walking  just  behind  her  son,  said  to  him:  "I 
don't  greatly  admire  her  manners!  You  will  please 
tell  her  to  kneel  down  as  all  well-bred  people  do.  If 
she  refuses,  you  are  to  have  her  whipped." 

[100] 


AFTER  the  crowd  had  retired  from  the  gardens, 
Wang  set  his  numerous  assistants  to  work  in  the 
most  seriously  damaged  parts  of  the  shrubbery  and 
flower-beds.  He  himself  went,  with  his  daughter  and 
their  little  servant,  to  see  what  he  could  do  for  his 
peonies,  some  of  which  had  been  considerably 
trampled.  The  poor  old  fellow  ran  from  one  to  an- 
other, almost  in  tears,  lamenting  his  evil  destiny. 

"Don't  bemoan  your  fate,"  said  the  little  servant. 
"Your  flowers  are  spoiled,  true;  but  your  daughter  is 
alive!" 

At  these  words,  Wang  looked  at  his  daughter.  In- 
stantly his  eyes  filled  with  a  deep  and  tender  solici- 
tude. His  look  rested  like  a  caress  on  the  delicately 
graceful  oval  of  Orchid's  face — on  her  thin  straight 
nose,  her  hair  daintily  tied  in  a  high  knot  ornamented 
with  flowers;  above  all,  on  her  eyes — black,  lustrous 
eyes,  full  of  vivacity  and  charm,  between  thick  and 
curling  lashes.  She  wore  a  short,  narrow  pink  jacket, 
tied  at  the  waist  by  a  carmine  scarf,  the  broad  ends 
of  which  were  left  floating.  Her  skirt  was  of  a  hun- 
dred colours  and  as  many  pleats;  and  these  last 
opened  and  shut  at  every  step,  each  revealing  a  new 
tint.  Her  hands  were  long  and  delicately  tapering, 

[101] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


and  it  was  with  deft  and  supple  fingers  that  she  now 
touched  the  splendid  flowers,  straightening  the  stems, 
pinching  off  the  half -broken  leaves.  Her  whole  body 
was  grace  and  animation  and  exquisite  fragility. 

"Red  Peony  is  right,"  she  said.  "Let  us  be  thank- 
ful that  we  have  escaped  the  riot.  When  I  think  that 
those  murderers  were  actually  in  the  garden — ! 
They  had  only  to  pass  this  cluster  of  trees  to  be  in 
our  own  house.  I  was  there,  not  knowing  what  was 
to  be  done  to  save  us,  and  clutching  a  knife  ready  to 
kill  myself  if  they  had  tried  to  touch  me." 

"Yes,"  said  Red  Peony,  "but  the  first  one  who 
passed  the  threshold  would  have  had  his  eyes  plucked 
out — by  me!" 

"All  was  lost,"  answered  Wang.  "And  then,  sud- 
denly, the  mob  stopped." 

"No  doubt,"  said  Orchid  piously,  "we  owe  our  es- 
cape to  the  shade  of  my  mother.  She  always  used 
to  come  here  to  see  you  at  your  work.  Her  lucky 
and  miraculous  influence  it  is  that  has  saved  us." 

"Assuredly,"  said  Red  Peony,  "their  sudden  flight 
was  strange.  Did  you  not  notice,  0  Master?" 

"I  noticed  nothing  at  all,"  answered  Wang.  "I 
was  busy  trying  to  protect  my  flowers." 

"Men  never  do  notice  anything,"  grumbled  the  lit- 
tle maid. 

"I  should  think  they  might  well  enough  have  been 
routed  by  the  threats  of  the  First  Wife,"  said  Wang 
as  an  afterthought. 

[102] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"It  may  be,"  said  Orchid.  "Anyway,  it  is  my 
duty  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  my  mother  in  this  place 
where  her  influence  has  manifested  itself." 

"Do,  my  dear  child — and  at  the  same  time  ask  your 
mother  to  help  you  find  a  good  husband." 

"We  have  plenty  of  time  to  think  of  that:  I  am 
not  yet  nineteen.  But  do  you,  Red  Peony,  run  to 
the  house  and  bring  back  the  table  for  the  sacrifice. 
The  sun  is  touching  the  horizon.  We  approach  the 
hour  in  which  the  Shades  are  liberated." 

The  little  servant  went  off  as  fast  as  her  short  legs 
would  carry  her.  The  old  man,  however,  was  still 
preoccupied  with  his  plants.  "We  have  nearly  fin- 
ished here,"  he  said.  "I  will^go  and  see  if  my  assis- 
tants have  done  their  work.  Then  I  may  go  to  see 
the  Lord  Chen." 

"Do,  father,"  answered  Orchid  softly.  "I  will 
wait  for  you  at  home." 

When  the  old  man  had  disappeared  behind  the 
bushes,  his  daughter,  left  alone,  gazed  dreamily  at 
the  scenery.  The  roses  on  the  wall  were  nothing  but 
nebulous  patches  of  colour  in  the  dusk.  Beyond 
them  the  pines  and  cypresses  of  the  monastery  tow- 
ered darkly.  The  temple  itself  held  the  last  rays  of 
the  sun,  and  the  yellow  tiles  of  its  lofty  roof  were  a 
mass  of  burning  gold.  The  path  in  front  of  Orchid 
sloped  down  between  clumps  of  flowers  and  bushes 
straight  to  the  carmine  framework  of  a  bridge  and, 
beyond,  to  a  little  kiosk  built  on  an  islet  in  a  pond. 

[103] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Glazed  blue  tiles  crowned  the  quaint  structure  and 
shone  iridescently  in  the  red  light  of  the  sky.  The 
clear  verdancy  of  the  bamboos  harmonized  softly 
with  the  silver-grey  of  willows,  the  dark  purple  of 
beech  trees.  An  immensity  of  peace  filled  the  air. 
One  could  hardly  hear  the  distant  city  noises.  A 
deep  bell,  slowly  struck  in  the  neighbouring  temple, 
sent  forth  vast  pulsating  waves  of  lovely  sound. 

A  delicious  emotion  took  possession  of  Orchid, 
flooded  her  whole  being.  Occupied  throughout  the 
day  with  her  household  tasks  and  her  study  of  the 
classics  and  the  poets,  she  had  spent  her  whole  life 
in  innocence  and  purity,  companioned  by  her  father, 
who  talked  with  her  of  nothing  but  poems  and  flowers, 
and  by  her  little  servant,  Who  adored  her.  On  this 
evening,  still  disturbed  by  her  excitement  of  the  after- 
noon and  by  the  memory  of  her  mother's  passionate 
caresses,  she  perceived  with  a  new  and  peculiar  soft- 
ness of  response  the  miracle  of  the  sunset.  She  knew 
herself  to  be  in  intimate  communion  with  nature;  and 
her  mind  was  haunted  by  poetic  images,  words  in 
keeping  with  her  mood. 

Red  Peony  came  back  presently,  carrying  with 
some  difficulty  a  small  oblong  table  on  which  was  the 
Sacred  Tablet  in  a  carved  stand.  There  were  also 
incense-burners  and  small  cups  holding  white  rice, 
butter,  and  chips  of  meat.  The  little  servant  helped 
arrange  these  sacred  vessels  in  their  proper  order. 

[104] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Then  she  said,  with  ostensible  indifference:     "I  met 
somebody  today,  Little  Elder  Sister." 

"Ah!     And  whom  did  you  meet?" 

"The  servant  of  the  Man  of  the  Ocean  who  lives 
there — in  the  temple  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall." 

"I  hope  you  did  not  speak  to  him,"  said  Orchid 
demurely. 

"Oh,  no!" 

"What  happened,  then?" 

"He  spoke  to  me,"  answered  Red  Peony.  "Oh, 
very  respectfully,  I  assure  you!" 

"You  did  not  listen  to  him?     You  hurried  along?" 

"Of  course  I  followed  the  rites. — I  heard  what  he 
said,  though!" 

"That  was  very  wrong  of  you,"  said  Orchid. — 
"And  what  did  he  say?" 

"If  it  was  so  wrong,  I  ought  not  to  repeat  it," 
answered  the  little  servant  tantalizingly.  But,  as  her 
mistress  seemed  to  be  ignoring  this,  she  went  on: 
"Since  you  insist,  I  will  tell  you  that  he  greeted  me 
most  politely,  saying:  'The  Little  One  is  called  The 
Badger.  My  Elder  Sister  will  perhaps  allow  me  to 
carry  that  heavy  basket?  We  are  neighbours,  and 
the  rites  bid  neighbours  help  one  another'." 

"You  did  not  give  him  your  basket,  I  trust?" 

"Oh,  no,"  answered  Red  Peony.  "He  had  already 
taken  it." 

"You  should  have  taken  it  back  from  him." 
[105] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"I  meant  to,  but — he  began  to  talk  about  his  mas- 
ter, and  I  forgot  everything." 

"I  trust  that  you  are  not  in  love  with  that  foreigner? 
that  you  have  never  seen  him?" 

"And  why  not?"  answered  the  little  maid.  "He  is 
a  most  scholarly  person,  and  very  handsome  besides. 
Yes,  I  have  seen  him — and  you,  too.  You  have  seen 
him." 

"I  have  seen  him?  You  are  mad!  Where  on 
earth  could  I  have  seen  him?  I  never  go  out." 

"Little  Elder  Sister,  I  know  that  he  has  seen  you, 
and  I  know  that  you  have  seen  him.  I  was  there  the 
other  day  while  he  was  looking  at  you  over  the  wall. 
I  noticed  that  you  were  aware  of  being  looked  at." 

"Will  you  never  stop  that  little  snake's  tongue  of 
yours? — My  little  Red  Peony,"  she  went  on  tenderly, 
"you  must  not  say  a  word  about  this  to  anybody.  I 
was  dying  of  curiosity  to  see  a  foreigner — and  how 
is  it  possible  to  see  without  being  seen?  You  know 
yourself  that  he  is  very  handsome,  even  if  he  has 
not  the  long  dark  hair  of  our  race." 

"He  is  handsome  and  wise  and  scholarly.  He  is 
the  Phoenix  and  the  Dragon." 

"You  vex  me,"  interrupted  Orchid  in  a  tone  of 
pretended  exasperation.  "Let  us  proceed  with  our 
sacrifice."  She  knelt  before  the  table.  Red  Peony, 
sitting  on  her  heels,  touched  a  great  lute,  beginning 
with  simple  and  sombre  chords.  Orchid  leaned  for- 
ward and  touched  her  forehead  to  the  ground.  Then 

[106] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


she  placed  her  long,  slender  hands  meticulously  on 
her  knees  and  began  to  sing  in  a  sweet,  pure,  and 
liquid  voice  the  magnificent  traditional  "Hymn  to 
the  Shades,"  the  simple  words  and  perfect  melody  of 
which  have  been  transmitted,  generation  by  genera- 
tion, from  remotest  antiquity. — 

"When  the  last  rays  of  the  dying  day 
Have  yielded  Nature  up  to  the  triumphing  night, 
The  shades  of  those  who  on  earth  had  our  love 

Hover  round  us,  timid  and  shy. 
They  try  to  help  us  in  our  trouble,  but  they  show  themselves 

To  faithful  souls  alone. 
They  are  here,  round  us,  waiting 
For  a  thought,  for  a  summons  —  for  by  this  gate  only  can 

they  mingle 
With  our  pleasures,  with  our  sorrows." 

While  she  was  still  singing,  Mackensie's  head  ap- 
peared above  the  wall.  Beside  him  was  his  servant, 
who  said  softly:  "Did  I  not  tell  you  that  you  had 
better  come,  0  Great  Man?  As  soon  as  I  heard  the 
singing  I  warned  you.  Was  I  wrong?" 

"Indeed,  you  were  not,  Little  Badger,"  answered 
his  master.  "What  we  are  doing  now  is,  of  course, 
altogether  incorrect.  But  how  am  I  to  see  her  with- 
out being  incorrect?" 

"You  well  know,  0  Master,"  said  the  servant,  as 
one  having  authority,  "that  the  rites  may  be  either 
followed  or  passed  over.  Today,  for  instance,  I  took 
the  liberty  of  speaking  to  the  maid." 

[107] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"So!     And  what  did  she  say?" 

"That  her  name  was  Red  Peony." 

1  'Red  Peony'!  What  an  exquisite  name  and  how 
well  it  suits  her!" 

"No,  no!"  interrupted  the  other  hastily.  "It  is  the 
maid  who  is  named  Red  Peony.  The  mistress's  name 
is  Orchid." 

"Even  prettier!" 

"I  think  'Red  Peony'  is  pretty  enough.  But  then, 
I  am  only  an  illiterate  person." 

Meanwhile,  Orchid  had  once  more  touched  her 
forehead  to  the  ground,  at  the  same  time  waving  little 
bundles  of  burning  incense-sticks  in  order  to  frighten 
away  evil  influences.  Again  she  sang: 

"Oh,  come  near  me,  Beloved  Shades ! 
As  a  faithful  sign  of  my  love  for  you, 
Here  are  gifts.     May  their  incense  please  you! 
May  their  perfumes  seem  sweet  in  your  nostrils! 
Here  is  the  wine  in  the  three-legged  cup ; 
Here  the  rice;  and  here  the  paper  money 
Which,  burned  in  the  fire,  is  transmitted  to  you." 

She  rose  and,  taking  a  huge  heap  of  imitation  gold 
and  silver  ingots,  burned  them.  Since  the  Shades  are 
spiritual,  the  odour  of  the  dishes  is  sufficient  for  their 
food,  and  the  smoke  of  the  paper  money  supplies 
them  with  all  the  currency  they  need  in  the  other 
world,  where  fortune  is  as  much  respected  as  in  this. 

Mackensie,  leaning  toward  his  servant,  asked: 
"What  else  did  she  say?" 

[108] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"That  her  mistress  was  neither  married  nor  be- 
trothed." 

"Good!" 

"But  that  she  was  as  good  as  in  love  with  some- 
body." 

"Ha!  One  of  those  young  Chinese  lords,  doubt- 
less. Then  all  is  lost." 

"She  told  me  that  it  was  somebody — " 

"But  who?     Speak!" 

"Sh!  they  will  hear  us." 

"Who?"  asked  Mackensie  again,  after  a  silence. 

"A  neighbour." 

"What  neighbour?" 

"A  neighbour  who  looked  at  her  over  the  wall  while 
she  was  walking  in  the  garden." 

"You  villain!          Are  you  trying  to  torture  me?" 
Shall    I    show   you   whether   my   stick   is   light   or 
heavy?" 

"If  you  beat  me  I  won't  talk  with  the  maid  any 
more.  Sh!  This  time,  she  really  has  seen  us." 

Red  Peony  had  in  fact  raised  her  head  and  de- 
tected them.  She  responded  with  a  smile  to  the  sig- 
nal of  silence  that  Little  Badger  made  her.  Mean- 
while, Orchid  went  on  with  her  sacrifice,  offering  in 
turn  the  cups  of  rice  and  meat,  and  making  obeisance 
several  times  over.  "Pay  attention,  will  you?"  she 
now  said,  a  little  sharply,  to  her  assistant.  "Now 
give  me  the  other  incense-sticks,  and  light  them.  We 
are  to  bid  farewell  to  the  Shades.  I  am  afraid  that 

[109] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  crowing  of  the  cock  may  frighten  them  away. 
Let  us  hasten." 

Then,  sitting  as  before,  hands  on  knees,  she  sang: 

"0  Sacred  Shades,  fare  ye  well ! 
May  my  modest  offerings  and  my  pious  aspirations 
Be  pleasing  in  your  sight!     And  hear  my  prayers! 
Abandon  me  not !     Come  and  watch  over  me  in  my  dreams ! 
Be  ever  present  to  guard  me  from  harm. 
For  without  truce  or  rest,  the  Spirits  of  Evil  are  .on  our  track. 

Protect  us!" 

As  she  finished  the  ceremony,  Mackensie  leaned 
once  more  toward  Little  Badger.  "How  am  I  to  have 
speech  with  her?  The  opportunity  is  unexcelled; 
but  it  is  exceedingly  incorrect." 

"If  it  is  so  incorrect,  you  had  better  not  speak  to 
her." 

"True  enough,  of  course,"  agreed  Mackensie. 
"But  I  shall  attempt  it,  just  the  same." 

"I  can't  answer  for  how  she  will  take  it.  But  you 
are  a  man  of  culture;  you  must  find  a  way  for  your- 
self." 

"It  is  very  perplexing.  Suppose  she  should  be 
angry?" 

Orchid  was  now  arranging  the  cups  on  the  table. 
Red  Peony,  helping  her,  said  in  a  whisper:  "There 
they  are!" 

"Who?"  asked  Orchid  in  surprise. 

"Our  neighbours  from  over  the  wall.  Don't 
look!" 

[110] 


"Let  us  go  away  at  once,"  said  Orchid — without, 
however,  making  any  motion  to  go. 

"It  would  be  a  pity,  the  night  is  so  lovely,"  sug- 
gested the  other  tentatively. 

"Yes — the  moon  is  shining,  and  the  cool  breeze 
murmuring  in  the  bamboos  woos  us  to  poetry.  It  is 
really  very  tempting." 

"A  marvellous  night,  indeed." 

"As  marvellous  as  that  described  in  that  poem  of 
my  father's:  do  you  know  it?" 

"Which  one?" 

"Why — er — this  one: 

"The  immense  vault  of  Heaven 
Is  carved  out  of  dark  jade; 
A  silver  stream  goes  across, 
Suffusing  it  with  a  milky  glimmer. 
Stars  above  and  men  below 
Have  conquered  the  night  with  their  million  lamps." 

From  the  top  of  the  wall  Mackensie  heard  her 
words,  and  immediately  recognized  a  poem  by  old 
Wang,  one  which  had  been  posted  all  over  the  city 
by  the  Governor's  order,  as  a  model  for  writers  and 
poets  of  the  region.  He  seized  the  offered  oppor- 
tunity and  sang,  with  a  tolerably  correct  accent,  the 
second  stanza  of  the  same  poem. — 

"From  the  garden  wherein  the  moon  pours  out  its  splendour 

Rise  to  me  sombre  and  sweet  perfumes. 
One  by  one  the  flowers  have  closed  their  chalices, 
Whispering  softly  *  I  love  you !  '  to  the  zephyr." 

[in] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"He  knows  our  poetry,"  said  Orchid  in  a  low  voice. 
"And  how  beautifully  he  sings  it!" 

"Let  us  go  now — shall  we?"  suggested  Red  Peony 
impishly. 

The  young  man  went  on  with  the  poem,  more  and 
more  moved  by  the  sight  of  the  girl  and  fired  with 
hope  of  speaking  to  her  face  to  face. — 

"The  passer  by  is  charmed;  he  stops  on  his  way; 
He  feels  his  heart  swelling  with  love. 
Will  he  dare  to  bend  his  head  low  like  the  flowers 
And  also  say  *  I  love  you!  '  in  his  turn?" 

Orchid  listened  with  her  heart  in  her  eyes. 
Brought  up  in  the  solitude  of  the  garden,  she  had 
hardly  ever  seen  a  man  in  her  whole  life.  The  sig- 
nificant glances  of  this  foreigner  had  vaguely  stirred 
her  many  times — for  she  had  more  than  once  seen 
Mackensie  watching  her  from  over  the  wall.  She 
knew  that  it  was  her  duty  to  go  at  once;  but  that 
knowledge  did  not  deter  her  from  singing  the  fourth 
stanza  herself. — 

"Show  me  the  flower  that  ever  refused  to  yield  her  perfume! 
She  exhales  her  soul,  ecstatic  because  she  is  loved, 
Until,  one  day,  fainting  and  worn  and  wan, 
She  drops  her  dying  petals  and  they  fall  for  ever." 

While  she  sang,  her  face  turned  toward  the  gar- 
dens, Little  Badger  had  silently  mounted  the  wall  and 
climbed  down  a  ladder  toward  Red  Peony,  who  in- 
stantly started  up  the  pathway  as  if  running  away 

[112] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


from  him.  In  a  trice  they  were  lost  from  sight  be- 
hind the  shrubbery.  Mackensie  imitated  his  ex- 
ample. But  he  was  not  so  agile,  and  the  young  girl 
turned  and  caught  sight  of  him  while  he  was  still  on 
the  ladder. 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  imploringly.  "Oh, 
don't  come  down:  I  am  lost!"  she  said. 

He  stopped.  "Don't  be  afraid,"  he  pleaded  softly. 
"We  are  guarded  well,  and  nobody  is  going  to  see 
us.  I  pray  you,  don't  run  away  from  me!  I  have 
lived  so  long  in  the  unconscious  yet  terrifying  hope 
of  the  day  when  I  should  meet  face  to  face  her  whom 
I  have  always  beheld  in  my  dreams!  And  here  you 
are,  but  quivering  and  afraid.  Have  no  fear  of  me. 
I  will  never  do  anything  you  do  not  wish  me  to  do. 
See,  I  have  stopped  as  you  bid  me.  Let  the  poor 
passerby  intoxicate  himself  with  the  perfume  of  the 
flower  he  adores!" 

Orchid  was  still  fighting  against  him,  against  her- 
self. "The  passerby  has  come  from  afar,"  she  said 
in  a  low  tone.  "He  will  go  on  his  way,  forgetting 
that  which  will  have  been  to  him  no  more  than  a 
light  moment's  pleasure.  And  the  flower  which 
bloomed  for  him  will  wither  and  die,  solitary,  dis- 
honoured." 

With  an  exultant  sense  that  her  resolution  was  al- 
ready yielding,  he  slipped  hastily  down  the  ladder 
and  took  her  hand.  "Since  when,"  he  protested,  "is 
it  the  fashion  for  husband  and  wife  to  part?  Have 

[113] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


you  ever  seen  the  swallow  abandoning  his  mate?  If 
I  am  to  go  away,  you  will  come  with  me,  beyond  the 
last  wave  of  the  azure  sea  to  the  Western  lands. 
There  you  shall  see  the  cities  in  which  husbands  are 
the  devoted  slaves  of  their  wives,  working  for  them 
only.  You  shall  see  shops  as  big  as  whole  towns,  in 
which  everything  there  is  is  for  those  wives,  their 
pleasure  and  their  adornment;  and  we  shall  be  always 
together." 

She  lifted  up  her  face  toward  him  in  such  tender- 
ness and  trust  that  he  was  moved  to  the  depth  of  his 
being.  All  she  said  was:  "True  love  cares  not  for 
all  the  marvels  of  the  world.  All  the  happiness,  the 
joy,  is  in  the  souls  of  those  who  love  honestly  and  with 
their  whole  hearts." 

"You  love  me,  then!"  ventured  Mackensie  in- 
stantly. "Can  it  be?" 

"And  you?"  she  answered.  "Your  eyes,  blue  like 
the  sea — are  they  not  also  as  treacherous  as  the  sea  is? 
Are  you  not  one  of  the  Immortals?  Your  eyes  burn 
like  fire." 

"I  am  no  spirit,"  he  answered  tenderly,  "but  a  man 
who  loves  you,  who  will  always  love  you.  From  this 
hour  and  until  the  end  of  our  lives  we  will  be  to  each 
other  what  the  baby  is  to  the  grandmother,  the  sister 
to  the  brother,  the  mother  to  the  child." 

"Ah,  but  say  no  more!"  she  commanded  him. 
"What  does  it  matter?  When  a  hurricane  blows  and 
piles  the  waters  of  the  sea  on  the  shore,  everything 

[114] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


is  swept  away.  When  the  tempest  of  passion  blows 
upon  the  soul,  it  breaks  everything  there  also — filial 
respect,  long  years  of  training,  even  fear  and  com- 
mon prudence." 

While  she  was  speaking  he  had  gently  captured  her 
other  hand.  She  submitted  without  a  movement, 
without  a  cry,  to  this  fate  which  set  up  inwardly  so 
wild  a  tumult  of  emotion.  Capable  of  no  further  ef- 
fort to  resist  the  blind  impulse  of  her  own  nature,  she 
abandoned  herself  to  her  destiny. 

The  flooding  moonlight  cast  across  their  shoulders 
a  veil  of  silver  brocade  on  which  the  shadows  of 
leaves  drew  constantly  shifting  patterns.  Grave 
odours  of  flowers,  of  the  earth  beneath  their  feet,  in- 
toxicated them.  Oblivious  of  all  except  their  happi- 
ness, they  were  but  two  delicately  and  sensitively  re- 
sponsive souls  lost  together  in  a  boundless  ecstasy. 
No  sound  troubled  the  serenity  of  the  garden,  of  the 
night.  He  beheld  her  dreamlike  beauty,  heard  the 
quick  fluttering  of  her  heart.  He  drew  her  close ;  his 
arms  tightened  about  the  slender  perfection  which  was 
her  body.  She  lifted  her  face.  Their  lips  met. 

Trembling  and  dizzy,  they  drew  then  a  little  apart, 
holding  each  other  still  by  the  hand,  silent.  What 
had  happened  between  them  was  so  deep  in  its  impli- 
cation, so  perfect  in  its  mutuality,  that  no  words  could 
have  added  anything. 

At  that  moment  Little  Badger  and  Red  Peony  came 
hurrying  back.  Other  footfalls  approached  from  the 

[115] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


silence  behind  them.  The  little  servant  led  her  mis- 
tress back  toward  the  house,  while  once  more  the 
neighbour  and  his  manservant  were  clambering  over 
the  wall. 


[116] 


XI 


THE  news  of  Ming-ni's  return  spread  like  wild- 
fire. His  foreign  wife  proved  to  be  such  an  at- 
traction that  any  person  who  could  claim  even  the 
remotest  relationship  or  the  most  casual  friendship 
with  one  of  the  residents  of  the  Palace  came  at  once 
to  gratify  his  curiosity,  and  if  possible  to  see  and 
touch. 

Monique  was  overpowered.  Already  she  had  been 
compelled,  beginning  with  the  very  day  of  arrival,  to 
pay  the  customary  calls  on  each  of  her  husband's  rela- 
tives: her  father-in-law,  her  mother-in-law,  her  father- 
in-law's  five  secondary  wives  (whom,  by  the  way,  she 
at  first  assumed  to  be  his  cousins  or  sisters) ;  then 
the  sisters  of  her  father-in-law  and  of  her  mother- 
in-law,  and  the  wives  of  their  brothers;  then  the  sis- 
ters' families  and  the  brother-in-law  of  her  husbands' 
parents,  and  so  on  endlessly.  For  a  month  without 
stopping,  she  was  occupied  from  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning  until  evening.  When  night  came,  she  must 
receive  calls  from  those  whom  she  had  visited,  and 
from  all  the  members  of  the  younger  brothers'  and 
sisters'  families,  as  well  as  from  the  innumerable 
guests  and  friends. 

[117] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


In  China  each  degree  of  relationship  has  its  special 
name.  The  elder  and  younger  brothers  of  one's  fa- 
ther are  not  merely  uncles:  they  are  po  or  shoo,  po- 
po  or  shoo-shoo,  according  to  their  ages.  There  are 
special  names  for  every  gradation  of  aunt  and  cousin, 
brother-in-law  and  sister-in-law.  And  the  families 
are  huge.  The  custom  of  taking  many  second  wives 
(each  with  a  special  title),  each  of  whom  may  have 
several  children  (each  with  a  special  denomination), 
increases  the  complexity  to  an  extent  which  can  hardly 
be  conceived  of  by  a  Westerner.  Moreover,  people 
marry  very  young,  and  keep  on  having  children  until 
they  die;  so  that  it  can  easily  happen  that  one  has  a 
great-uncle  younger  than  oneself.  Monique  simply 
could  not  master  these  complications  all  at  once. 
She  made  the  most  frightful  mistakes,  and  in  a  few 
days,  of  course,  had  all  the  womenfolk  of  Ming-ni's 
family  up  in  arms  against  her. 

When  she  discovered  that  she  had  called  on  the 
second  wives  of  her  father-in-law — women  who,  ac- 
cording to  her  Western  notions,  were  simply  the  old 
man's  mistresses — she  was  outraged.  It  took  all 
Ming-ni's  tact  and  patience  to  prevent  her  openly  cut- 
ting the  poor  ladies. 

The  perfect  politeness  and  the  interminable  for- 
mulae of  etiquette  imposed  by  Chinese  rites  struck 
her  at  first  as  the  ultimate  fine  flower  of  civilized 
breeding.  But  when  she  had  to  go  through  it  all  day 
after  day,  she  almost  went  mad,  and  it  became  to  her 

[118] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  most  awful  trial  of  fortitude  that  a  fiendish  in- 
genuity had  ever  invented. 

On  the  first  night,  and  every  night  thereafter,  she 
dined  with  the  women  of  the  family.  One  wall  of 
the  dining-room  was  replaced  by  latticed  frames  cov- 
ered with  translucent  paper,  through  which  the  moon 
poured  her  light.  The  big  hall  was  furnished  with  a 
long  table  of  black  and  gold  lacquer.  Heavy  carved 
chairs  of  lacquered  wood  were  disposed  in  readiness 
for  the  diners.  Along  the  rear  wall  were  hung  beau- 
tiful pictures  and  quotations  from  the  sages  and  poets. 
There  were  small  tables  on  which  stood  rare  curios 
or  vases  containing  flowers.  The  whole  dinner  was 
set  on  the  table  at  once.  A  multitude  of  big  bowls 
containing  food  of  every  description  were  placed  hap- 
hazard on  its  polished  surface.  Of  these,  only  one 
had  an  established  position :  ham,  the  dish  of  honour, 
was  invariably  set  before  the  oldest  lady  present. 
The  unshaded  light  of  thick  candles,  set  on  the  points 
of  heavy  brass  candlesticks,  was  reflected  from  the 
lacquered  table. 

There  were  innumerable  women,  young  and  old. 
The  old  lady  who  presided  at  the  dinner  table  was 
Mrs.  Chen's  grandmother.  She  was  a  little  deaf,  and 
she  had,  beneath  beautiful  white  hair  pulled  tight  and 
ornately  arranged,  a  small,  yellow,  wizened  face. 
She  was  a  sore  trial  to  Monique,  for  night  after  night 
she  persisted  in  asking  the  same  questions  about  West- 
ern food.  The  use  of  forks  was  the  subject  of  in- 

[119] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


cessant  questioning  on  her  part.  She  could  never  un- 
derstand how  any  one  was  able  to  make  use  of  such 
extraordinary  implements,  when  little  sticks  were  ob- 
viously so  much  more  easy  to  handle.  The  five  sec- 
ondary wives  were  there,  too,  all  very  pretty  and  very 
young,  all  trying  in  vain  to  maintain  the  severe  and 
rigid  demeanour  which  is  considered  as  correct,  not 
to  say  politic,  in  the  presence  of  the  old.  Ming-ni's 
sisters  and  his  sisters-in-law  were  there,  too,  as  well 
as  a  considerable  number  of  relatives,  friends,  and 
concubines. 

Politeness  at  table  consists  in  indefatigably  filling 
one's  guest's  bowl  with  the  choicest  morsels.  One's 
own  sticks  are  used  for  picking  such  dainties  out  of 
the  common  dish  and  conveying  them  to  their  desti- 
nation. Some  go  so  far  as  to  introduce  them  by  force 
into  their  guest's  mouth;  but  this  is  considered  to  be 
slightly  overdoing  good  manners.  It  is  an  unequivo- 
cal insult  not  to  eat  all  that  is  so  offered  one.  This 
Monique  knew,  and  on  the  first  night  she  nearly  died 
of  indigestion.  Some  of  the  dishes  tried  her  rather 
severely,  too — for  example,  the  celebrated  preserved 
eggs,  buried  sometimes  for  three  years  in  the  ground 
before  being  put  on  the  table.  These  have  the  look 
— and  die  flavour — of  certain  Western  cheeses  of 
high  and  pungent  repute.  Small  fried  worms  also 
imposed  a  degree  of  self-mastery. 

Fortunately,  at  the  beginning  and  again  at  the  end 
of  each  meal,  servants  offered  one  a  small  serviette, 

[120] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


dipping  it  first  in  a  chased  gold  basin  filled  with 
scalding  water.  One  passed  the  serviette  over  one's 
face,  and  then  the  servant  poured  hot  water  on  one's 
hands  from  a  long,  thin  gold  ewer.  When,  at  last, 
dinner  was  over,  tea  was  brought  in,  and  the  white- 
haired  old  lady  gave  the  signal  for  dispersal  by  put- 
ting her  cup  to  her  lips.  There  are  no  after-dinner 
social  entertainments  in  China.  As  soon  as  tea  is 
served,  the  guests  depart.  Monique  approved  of  this 
custom;  she  even  debated  the  possibility  of  introduc- 
ing it  at  home.  Here,  it  enabled  her  to  return  at 
once  to  the  pavilion  which  had  been  assigned  to  her 
and  Ming-ni.  This  was  situated  in  the  gardens,  in 
the  midst  of  dense  shrubbery  and  bamboos  which 
screened  it  from  prying  eyes.  An  open  verandah 
ran  round  the  little  building.  On  the  ground  floor 
were  their  reception-rooms  and  library;  on  the  second 
floor,  their  bedrooms  and  baths. 

Every  night,  before  she  and  Ming-ni  had  been  alone 
for  more  than  a  few  minutes,  callers  were  announced. 
Her  knowledge  of  Chinese  being  still  scanty,  the 
pleasure  of  these  calls  was  soon  exhausted.  A  fixed 
and  meaningless  smile  overspread  her  face,  and  she 
kept  bowing  incessantly  to  compliments  guessed 
rather  than  understood.  In  the  morning  after  such 
an  evening,  she  got  up  with  extreme  difficulty.  Both 
body  and  mind  were  sore,  numbed.  Yet,  in  a  funda- 
mental way,  she  was  still  interested  and  not  unhappy. 
China  had  not  disappointed  her. 

[121] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


The  ladies  of  the  household,  however,  were  less  and 
less  enthusiastic  about  Monique  and  about  Western 
folk  and  customs  in  general.  The  fact  that  Monique 
had  not  as  yet  presented  her  husband  with  an  heir 
was  considered  in  itself  as  sufficiently  compromis- 
ing; and  her  frequent  social  errors  made  matters 
worse.  Ming-ni  was  troubled  to  observe  the  increas- 
ing hostility.  He  tried  to  enlighten  her  about  some 
of  the  dangers  which  she  might  have  to  face.  He  re- 
quested her  to  avoid  going  to  the  shops,  and  to  wait, 
instead,  for  the  merchants  to  come  to  her  house  with 
their  wares,  as  is  the  custom  of  ladies  of  rank.  But 
she  saw  no  harm  in  what  she  was  doing,  and  she  kept 
on  with  it.  They  had  more  than  one  argument  on  the 
subject.  She  could  not  as  yet  penetrate  to  the  un- 
derlying realities  of  Chinese  life;  each  aspect  of  it 
ranked  in  her  mind  with  the  characteristic  subjects  of 
musical  comedy.  China  seemed  to  her  very  much  as 
a  French  poet  of  a  bygone  era  described  it: 

"China  is  to  me  as  a  land  in  a  dream. 
All  over  it  there  are  lakes,  and  on  each  sport  waterfowl  of 

curious  breeds. 

On  the  bank,  where  slumbers  a  great  bronze  buffalo, 
Towers  a  lofty  pagoda  of  porcelain, 
Its  colours  vivid  against  the  blue  of  the  sky. 
In  that  far  land  the  light  is  always  serene  and  pure, 
And  always  the  full  moon  is  hung  aloft  in  the  night. 
Fruit  in  the  orchards  is  ripe  and  sweet  the  year  round; 
Every  ploughman  is  dressed  in  splendid  robes, 
[122] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


And  follows  his  bullocks  in  the  field  with  mincing  and  fas- 
tidious gait, 

While  a  child  with  shaven  poll  goads  them  to  their  work. 

In  that  land,  in  a  palace  set  about  with  wondrous  jade  col- 
umns, 

We  shall  drink  together  cup  after  cup  of  slag  wine, 

Whilst  little  singers,  ringing  us  round, 

Raise  their  voices  in  a  piping  chorus, 

Playing  the  while  on  lute  and  tambour." 

Monique  was  still  under  this  spell  when  Ming-ni 
received  the  order  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Governor  of 
the  province.  The  Ambassador  had  recommended 
him  for  the  rank  of  Minister  attached  to  his  Embassy, 
and  the  promotion  had  been  conferred  without  delay. 
Thus  the  Duke  of  Krong  had  found  means  to  recall 
his  secretary,  whose  excellent  services  he  could  not 
hope  to  replace.  He  knew  Ming-ni's  value,  and  was 
willing  to  pay  for  it.  The  custom,  in  China,  is  not  to 
give  faithful  service  in  exchange  for  promises  which 
may  not  even  be  fulfilled;  neither  is  it  to  pay  in  ad- 
vance those  notoriously  incompetent  and  inefficient 
persons  who  can  never  be  really  useful.  Ming-ni 
was  obliged,  then,  to  go  to  the  capital  of  the  prov- 
ince in  order  to  receive  his  official  investiture  of 
rank.  The  distance  being  considerable  and  the 
means  of  transport  slow,  he  expected  to  be  gone  two 
months. 

He  thought  of  taking  Monique  with  him.  But 
gangs  of  highwaymen  infested  the  region;  moreover, 

[123] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  foreign  appearance  of  his  fair-haired  young  wife 
and  her  forthright  manners  were  very  dangerous,  if 
not  to  their  lives,  at  least  to  the  reputation  and  fu- 
ture career  of  the  diplomat.  He  decided,  all  things 
considered,  that  he  must  leave  her  at  the  Palace  of 
a  Hundred  Flowers.  This  decision  he  found  exceed- 
ingly hard  to  take.  But,  for  a  true  disciple  of  Krong 
Foo-tse,  Reason  must  always  dominate  the  wild  im- 
pulsion of  the  feelings.  So  he  announced  his  deter- 
mination to  Monique. 

She,  of  course,  was  downcast,  and  could  not  help 
showing  that  she  was.  The  whole  family  were  deeply 
shocked  by  such  lack  of  breeding  on  her  part.  A 
Chinese,  in  order  not  to  trouble  the  minds  of  his 
friends,  will  always  smile  benignantly  when  he  tells 
them  that  he  has  suffered  some  great  misfortune,  such 
as  the  loss  of  a  parent  or  a  child.  It  is  only  on  cer- 
tain specified  occasions  and  at  prescribed  moments 
that  the  rites  authorize  manifestations  of  sorrow.  For 
example,  it  is  recommended  to  orphans  that  they 
faint  several  times  during  the  burial  of  their 
parents.  Such  compression  of  genuine  emotions 
is  far  from  diminishing  them.  Many  who  suf- 
fer thus,  without  a  word,  contract  a  sort  of  stupor. 
They  experience  the  most  ungovernable  antipathy  to 
everybody  and  everything.  Unable  to  eat  or  drink, 
they  stay  in  bed  until  they  die,  or  until  the  cause  of 
their  sorrow  is  removed.  A  slow  fever  burns  them 
day  and  night,  and  no  medicine  can  stop  it.  Foreign 

[124] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


doctors  classify  such  illnesses  as  neurasthenia. 
Chinese  doctors  call  it  se  y  che  ping — "illness  of  the 
thoughts  and  feelings." 

Monique  did  not  contract  such  an  ailment,  but  she 
remained  silent  and  perpetually  sad.  At  meals  she 
hardly  opened  her  mouth.  She  even  became  irri- 
table. She  went  out  more  frequently  alone  and  on 
foot,  hoping  to  banish  her  sadness  by  the  spectacle  of 
the  streets  with  their  gaily  chattering  throngs,  or  by 
visiting  shops  rich  in  embroideries  and  silks.  But, 
soon  tired  of  all  this,  she  took  to  moping  in  the  gar- 
dens. 

It  was  thus  that  she  made  the  acquaintance  of  Or- 
chid, whom  she  met  beside  the  peonies,  helping  her 
father  with  his  exacting  work.  It  was  the  immeasur- 
able love  of  Wang  for  his  daughter  which  first  touched 
her. 

One  day  at  dinner  she  spoke  of  the  gardener,  and 
quoted  what  he  had  said  of  his  daughter:  "She  is  a 
poet,  a  gardener,  a  true  sage,  and  withal  as  beautiful 
as  the  celebrated  Si-she."  The  First  Wife,  who  sel- 
dom spoke  to  Monique  at  all,  now  asked  her  innum- 
erable questions  about  Orchid.  "Dear  me!"  mused 
the  old  lady  to  herself,  "I  did  not  know  that  this  girl 
was  so  beautiful  and  gifted  as  all  that.  I  ought  to 
have  guessed  it,  however.  Wang  is  one  of  the  glories 
of  our  city,  and  the  greatest  poet  of  the  whole  region. 
I  must  see  her  for  myself. — You  will  profit  by  seeing 
her  often,"  she  said  aloud  to  Monique. 

[125] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"The  daughter  of  a  gardener?"  asked  Monique, 
astonished. 

"Gardener  today,  tomorrow  a  Viceroy  if  it  please 
His  Imperial  Majesty  (may  he  live  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand  years!).  Anyhow,  a  living  example  of 
all  the  virtues,  and  the  most  respected  man  in  the 
city.  The  Governor  always  returns  his  call  on  New 
Year.  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see  him  a  'Cedar 
in  the  Forest  of  Brushes,'  which  would  give  him  the 
rank  of  Minister  of  State  and  Prince." 

"But — a  gardener?" 

"His  work  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  deserts  or  the 
high  qualities  of  his  character.  Our  station  in  life  is 
given  to  us  by  fate,  but  our  moral  and  intellectual 
worth  alone  is  meritorious,  since  it  alone  depends  on 
our  personal  efforts.  The  Sage  has  said:  'Those 
who,  understanding  the  nature  of  all  things,  neverthe- 
less go  on  working  and  thinking,  are  true  Sages. 
Those  who,  not  being  so  gifted,  nevertheless  work  and 
succeed,  come  after.  Those  who  work  to  the  end,  but 
never  succeed,  come  still  lower.  The  lowest  degree  is 
reserved  to  those  who  never  make  an  eif  ort  to  attain 
virtue,  but  live  like  animals,  in  the  lowest  material 
thoughts  and  pleasures'." 


[126] 


XII 


TWO  months  had  gone  by.  A  messenger  had  just 
come,  preceding  Ming-ni  by  only  a  few  hours. 
The  whole  Palace  was  astir  over  the  return  of  the 
newly  invested  dignitary. 

Old  Wang,  tired  by  his  exertions  of  the  morning, 
was  enjoying  his  siesta  on  the  huge  krang,  a  combina- 
tion of  bed  and  sofa,  the  principal  piece  of  furniture 
in  every  Chinese  home.  He  was  slumbering  peace- 
fully, a  book  in  his  hands,  when  Red  Peony  entered 
and  woke  him  up.  "A  servant  asks  if  you  will  receive 
the  Lord  Chen,"  she  said. 

"Admit  him,"  answered  Wang,  without  moving. 

"But  the  Great  Man  comes  on  a  formal  visit,"  ob- 
jected the  little  servant. 

"Oh!  Then  do  not  admit  him,"  said  Wang  hastily, 
jumping  off  the  krang.  "Go  tell  him  to  wait,  and 
then  come  and  bring  me  my  hat  and  official  dress. — 
What!  aren't  you  ready  to  help  me  yet?" 

Red  Peony  ran  into  an  inner  chamber  while  the 
old  man  was  tidying  his  hair.  She  returned  in  a  mo- 
ment, bringing  a  long  gown  of  dark  violet  silk  with 
a  narrow  pale  blue  collar  and  sleeves  of  the  model 
known  as  "horses'-hoofs,"  embroidered  on  breast  and 

[127] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


back  with  a  design  in  gold  and  colour.  She  also 
carried  a  pointed  straw  hat  covered  with  red  silk 
plaits  and  surmounted  by  a  crystal  button. 

"Well,"  said  Wang,  when  he  had  finished  putting 
on  his  official  costume,  "now  open  the  door." 

A  servant  who  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  door 
saw  it  open  and,  perceiving  Wang  ready  in  the  room, 
screamed  pompously  at  the  top  of  his  lungs:  "At- 
tend! the  Great  Man  is  expected!" 

Wang,  assuming  the  correct  formal  gait,  stalked 
with  dignity  to  the  left  side  of  the  entrance,  his  arms 
and  shoulders  carefully  balanced.  A  sedan-chair  ap- 
peared beyond  the  low  flower-covered  wall  which  ran 
round  the  house.  It  turned  into  a  narrow  walk  lead- 
ing up  to  the  house,  and  was  deposited  by  its  four 
stalwart  porters  just  in  front  of  the  door.  Chen 
stepped  out  of  it,  lowering  his  head  and  lifting  his 
feet  to  do  so.  He,  too,  was  dressed  in  his  formal 
robes.  On  his  hat  was  the  coral  button  of  a  dignitary 
of  the  second  order. 

The  two  old  men  made  deep  curtseys  to  each  other, 
bending  the  right  knee  very  low  and  touching  the 
ground  with  the  closed  left  hand,  the  right  hand  and 
left  leg  extended  behind.  "Peace  be  with  you  and 
your  house,"  said  Chen  at  last. 

"I  rely  on  your  good  influence,"  responded  Wang. 
"May  it  please  you  to  enter  and  illumine  with  your 
presence  this  my  despicable  hovel." 

"How  could  I  venture?" 
[128] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Do,  I  pray  you." 

"I  dare  not,  I  dare  not!"  protested  Chen,  never- 
theless stepping  in  at  last.  But  he  stopped  at  once. 

"Take  the  higher  place,"  Wang  hastened  to  say. 
"Really,  you  must  take  the  superior  place,"  he  re- 
peated, indicating  the  right  end  of  the  sofa. 

"Oh,  but  assuredly  not!  I  must  sit  in  the  lower 
place." 

"How  could  you  think  of  doing  me  such  an  in- 
jury? I  touch  my  head  to  the  floor.  Do  not  refuse 
me  this  favour." 

"I  must  obey  your  orders,  0  Lord  Wang!  But 
you  make  me  forget  the  rites."  With  a  grunt  of  sat- 
isfaction he  dropped  at  last  into  the  place  which 
Wang  had  indicated. 

"I  remain  standing  in  order  to  wait  upon  you," 
said  his  host. 

"In  that  case  I  stand  also,"  answered  his  fat  guest, 
threatening  to  move. 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  yield  to  you  on  every  point," 
said  Wang,  sitting  down  at  last  at  his  guest's  left 
hand. 

There  was  a  brief  silence;  then  Chen  turned  his 
rubicund  face  toward  his  host.  "Well,  friend  Wang, 
and  how  are  you?  I  mean" — he  corrected  himself 
hastily — "is  the  Lord  Wang  in  good  health?" 

"Your  invaluable  friendship  has  protected  me,  0 
Great  Man.  And  yourself?" 

"As  well  as  ever,  thank  you." 
[129] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


While  these  formalities  were  being  exchanged, 
Chen's  servants  entered  from  behind.  They  now  sur- 
rounded him.  One  held  his  pipe,  another  lighted  it, 
and  a  third  held  a  fan  which  he  waved  gently.  Red 
Peony  had  brought  two  dainty  tea  bowls  and,  lifting 
their  exquisitely  decorated  lids,  poured  boiling  water 
over  the  leaves. 

"And  the  Precious  Jewels?  The  Inestimable 
Treasure,  your  First  Wife?  And  the  Incomparable 
Lords,  your  Sons?" 

"The  female  of  the  house  and  my  little  puppies  are 
well.  And  the  valuable  ornament  of  this  noble  pal- 
ace, your  daughter?" 

"We  humbly  accept  your  solicitude." 

Chen  lifted  the  cup  of  tea  to  his  lips  and  sipped. 
Wang  imitated  him. 

"I  must  not  waste  your  precious  time,  0  Great  Ma- 
ternal Uncle.  I  must  deprive  myself  of  a  society 
which  has  not  its  equal,"  said  Chen.  And  he  rose, 
his  host  again  following  his  example.  They  went 
slowly  toward  the  door.  "But  now  I  bethink  me," 
exclaimed  Chen,  stopping,  "I  have  something  to  say 
to  you.  0  Elder  Brother — " 

"Be  pleased  to  tell  me  everything." 

They  sat  down  once  more. 

"Dear  friend  and  elder  brother,  I  must  put  aside 
the  rites  and  speak  plainly.  Have  I  your  leave?" 

"Assuredly,  yes — pray  do." 

"The  Honourable  Marriage  Intermediary  who 
[130] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


came  yesterday  to  see  you  has  told  us  that  your  charm- 
ing daughter  was  neither  engaged  nor  the  subject  of 
any  promise." 

"Quite  correct,"  said  Wang. 

"And  that  you  would  have  no  objection  to  seeing 
her  married  to  a  young  man  of  an  honourable  family, 
provided  he  possessed  at  least  the  literary  rank  of 
'distinguished  talent.'  May  I  continue?" 

"Assuredly,  yes.     All  is  correct  so  far." 

"Then  I  must  formally  apprise  you  that  the  Hon- 
ourable Intermediary  was  sent  by  my  First  Wife  and 
myself." 

"I  am  honoured  exceedingly,  and  I  thank  you 
both." 

"Today,"  continued  the  fat  man  importantly,  "I 
have  come  to  ask  you  if  you  would  consent  to  the  mar- 
riage of  your  daughter  with  my  son  Ming-ni.  We 
should  be  most  delighted  with  such  a  union,  and  most 
proud." 

"This  is  a  great  honour  for  my  family,  and  for  my- 
self, 0  Elder  Brother!"  answered  Wang  gravely. 
"And  my  ancestors  up  to  the  twentieth  generation  will 
be  most  gratified.  I  can  accept  with  joy  so  hon- 
ourable a  match  for  my  daughter." 

"Then  it  is  all  settled,"  said  Chen,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

"Yes. — There  are,  however,  one  or  two  points 
which  I  feel  bound  to  mention.  Your  son  has 
brought  back  from  Europe  a  native  wife — " 

[131] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Ah!  Don't  speak  of  her  to  me!"  said  Chen  wear- 
ily. "My  Thorn-bush  hates  her,  and  of  course  I  am 
considered  as  responsible  for  all  her  blunders  and  her 
absent-mindedness.  My  life  is  really  intolerable.  I 
find  no  more  taste  in  the  lukewarm  wine.  As  for 
women,  they  all  weary  me." 

"Yes.     But  what  of  this  foreigner?" 

"Your  daughter  will  be  the  First  Wife  of  my  son. 
She  shall  do  as  she  likes  with  the  foreign  woman — 
sell  her  in  the  market,  or  do  whatever  else  she  deems 
best." 

"It  is  a  fact  that  your  son  has  married  her  accord- 
ing to  the  customs  of  those  barbarian  tribes.  Such  a 
marriage  does  not  exist  in  the  wise  laws  of  the  Flow- 
ery Kingdom." 

"She  is  a  mere  favourite  slave,"  reaffirmed  Chen. 
"And  I  must  admit  that  my  son's  fancy  for  her  yellow 
hair  is  easy  to  understand.  But  it  cannot  last  long. 
Pending  the  day  when  he  will  have  wearied  of  her,  we 
shall  install  her  in  a  distant  pavilion  and  not  allow 
her  to  come  into  the  house.  She  is  too  ignorant  of 
the  rites,  anyway.  Life  is  impossible  in  such  condi- 
tions." 

"Without  the  rites,"  said  Wang  sententiously,  "men 
would  be  like  dogs,  always  growling  and  snapping 
and  ready  to  fight  for  a  meatless  bone." 

"Not  only  that,  but  she  is  sure  to  bring  great  dif- 
ficulties on  our  house.  She  is  always  going  about 
alone  on  foot  in  the  city,  among  the  populace." 

[132] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Is  it  possible?     Must  she  not  be  a  little  mad?" 

"Doubtless,  for  she  has  not  the  slightest  feeling  of 
honour.  Another  woman  would  long  ago  have  killed 
herself  rather  than  submit  to  the  outrages  to  which 
the  First  Wife  subjects  her  every  day.  She  does  not 
even  seem  to  perceive  them,  and,  of  course,  that  makes 
the  Thorn-bush  all  the  more  enraged.  Moreover,  this 
woman  has  borne  no  children,  and  that  is  a  grave  mat- 
ter. So  that,  in  order  to  uphold  the  honour  of  our 
name,  we  thought  to  ask  your  help,  your  consent  to 
such  an  illustrious  marriage  as  that  which  has  just 
been  settled  between  us." 

"You  honour  me  too  much!"  murmured  old  Wang 
gratefully. 

"Now,  as  you  have  said,  we  fancy  that  this  bar- 
barian woman  is  a  little  mad.  My  son  is  so  submis- 
sive to  her  whims  that  we  are  afraid  to  let  him  know 
beforehand  of  this  marriage  with  your  daughter,  lest 
he  upset  our  plans." 

"Most  wisely  taken  into  account,"  assented  Wang 
with  a  nod. 

"If  we  celebrate  the  marriage  some  days  hence, 
she  will  learn  of  it  beforehand.  He  will  tell  her,  and 
we  shall  have  dreadful  scenes  to  put  up  with.  What 
do  you  say  to  celebrating  the  marriage  tonight?  My 
son  will  arrive  just  in  time,  and  it  is  quite  customary 
to  send  invitations  to  the  witnesses  on  the  same  day." 

"Why,"  said  Wang  deliberately,  "there  is  nothing 
contrary  to  the  rites  in  that.  It  is  perfectly  correct, 

[133] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


and  nobody  can  utter  a  word  of  objection.  Then  let 
us  proceed  at  once  with  the  various  ceremonies. 
And,  first,  the  most  important  procedure,  the  exchange 
of  the  billets  of  the  eight  ideograms." 

"I  have  brought  the  red  paper  for  the  billets." 
And  the  fat  man  drew  from  his  high  velvet  boot  a 
portfolio.  Opening  it,  he  took  out  a  folded  sheet  of 
red  paper  covered  with  golden  flowers.  This  he  gave 
to  Wang,  who  went  to  a  table.  There  the  poet-gar- 
dener took  the  "four  treasures  of  writing" — paper, 
brush,  water,  and  ink-stone.  He  put  on  his  large 
round  spectacles  rimmed  with  tortoiseshell,  and  began 
to  rub  the  brush  delicately  on  the  ink-stone. 

"Let  me  see,"  he  said.  And  he  wrote:  "Orchid 
.  .  .  born  in  the  hour  of  the  Hens  ...  in  the  day  of 
the  Horse  ...  in  the  moon  of  the  Plum-trees  .  .  . 
in  the  year  of  the  Buffalo." 

"Only  nineteen!"  said  the  guest,  standing  up. 
"And  here  is  the  billet  of  my  son." 

The  two  men,  each  holding  in  both  hands  the  billet 
of  his  child,  knelt  facing  each  other.  They  bowed 
gravely  several  times;  then,  having  exchanged  the 
little  booklets,  they  bowed  once  more  and  stood  up. 
Then  they  both  put  the  papers  into  their  high  boots. 

"Now  that  the  marriage  is  concluded,"  said  Chen, 
"I  must  return  home  to  settle  the  final  details  and 
prepare  the  house  so  that  the  young  bride  may  be 
able  to  cross  its  threshold  according  to  the  rites. — 
Have  you  spoken  to  your  daughter?" 

[134] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"How  could  I  have  done  so,  when  nothing  had  been 
arranged?"  answered  Wang. 

"Quite  so!  One  must  not  draw  water  out  of  the 
well  if  one  is  not  certain  to  drink  it.  It  only  stirs  up 
the  well  to  no  purpose.  Neither  have  I  written  to  my 
son.  Directly  he  returns,  I  will  tell  him  to  put  on  his 
formal  dress.  However,  may  I  not  see  your  daughter 
and  offer  her  my  congratulations?" 

"Indeed,  yes.  Red  Peony,"  said  Wang  to  the  little 
servant,  "run  and  tell  your  mistress  to  come." 

The  maid,  who  had  witnessed  and  overheard  the 
whole  interview  with  a  dazed  stupefaction,  went  to  the 
door  of  the  women's  apartment,  returning  a  few  mo- 
ments later  with  Orchid. 

The  young  girl  was  astonished  and  bewildered. 
In  spite  of  the  considerable  intimacy  between  her 
father  and  Chen,  it  was  not  customary  for  the  owner 
of  the  Palace  to  ask  to  see  her.  She  went  to  him, 
dropped  a  deep  curtsey,  and  said:  "I  wish  all  peace 
and  happiness  to  the  Great  Man." 

Chen  stopped  her  at  once  by  saying:  "Rise! 
Rise  at  once,  my  charming  child."  Then,  to  Wang: 
"She  is  exquisite.  When  I  used  to  see  her,  still  a  lit- 
tle girl  playing  about  the  garden,  with  her  short  pig- 
tail intertwined  with  red  threads,  I  did  not  dream  that 
she  would  grow  up  to  be  so  beautiful." 

"Little  girls  grow.  Flower  buds  open,"  answered 
her  father,  flattered. 

"Come  nearer  to  me,  my  child.  What  a  perfect 
[135] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


complexion?  And — her  teeth  when  she  smiles! 
Like  grains  of  rice!" 

"But,  father!"  protested  Orchid  in  a  shocked  tone. 
"You  had  me—" 

"Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  just  so.  You  must  be  sur- 
prised. I  have  had  as  yet  no  leisure  to  tell  you. 
Be  happy,  then!  we  have  given  you  in  marriage." 

"In  marriage?"  cried  Orchid,  stupefied. 

"Yes.  The  billets  of  the  eight  ideograms  are  al- 
ready exchanged." 

"But — to  whom?"  she  asked,  in  sudden  terror. 

"To  my  eldest  son,"  said  Chen.  "Sit  down,  my 
charming  daughter,  and  don't  be  afraid.  He  is  very 
gentle,  very  handsome — " 

"My  dear  child,"  interrupted  Wang  testily,  "you 
must  kow-tow  to  your  father-in-law.  The  rites  must 
be  observed." 

Orchid  knelt  mechanically,  and  repeated  the  "great 
salute,"  which  she  had  learned  long  ago,  as  all  little 
girls  learn  it.  "I  touch  my  forehead  to  the  ground, 
0  father  of  my  husband.  I  will  always  be  your  faith- 
ful servant,  your  help,  and  your  consolation.  I  deem 
you  the  equal  of  my  own  father,  since  he  who  is  my 
husband  is  your  son." 

"What  an  admirable  education!"  cried  Chen,  help- 
ing her  get  up.  "My  dear  child,  I  will  always  be  a 
father  to  you  and  love  you  as  my  own  daughter,  since 
you  are  the  wife  of  my  son."  Then,  to  Wang:  "Ah, 
my  dear  friend,  you  may  well  be  proud  of  your 

[136] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


daughter.  Very  few  women  nowadays  could  without 
preparation  recite  the  formulae  which  our  wise  ances- 
tors have  prescribed  for  all  the  circumstances  of  our 
life.  My  son  is  going  to  be  very  happy.  The  First 
Wife  will  adore  you,  my  child.  My  house  will  be- 
come at  last  a  celestial  abode  of  peace  and  pleasure." 

"These  are  most  exaggerated  praises,"  said  Wang 
with  assumed  modesty. 

"By  no  means.  They  are  the  exact  expression  of 
truth.  But  I  must  let  you  talk  with  your  father  and 
make  yourself  ready  for  the  ceremony,  my  child. — 
For  she  is  already  my  daughter,  without  ceasing  to 
be  yours,  0  Elder  Brother!" 

"The  father  of  the  husband  must  be  loved  before 
all,"  said  the  frail  old  man  ceremoniously. 

"Well,  good-bye.  This  time  I  am  really  off!  No, 
don't  accompany  me." 

"How  could  I  so  forget  the  rites? — You  have  tired 
the  horses  of  your  coach!" 

"Not  at  all.     Do  not  come!" 

Seeing  their  masters  standing,  the  servants  rushed 
to  the  door.  In  the  midst  of  the  general  agitation,  the 
porters  brought  the  sedan-chair  to  the  threshold. 
Chen  lowered  his  head,  raised  his  foot,  and  succeeded 
in  getting  in.  He  waved  an  affectionate  farewell  with 
his  two  closed  hands,  and  Wang  bowed  with  punctil- 
ious correctness. 

The  sedan-chair  had  no  more  than  disappeared  be- 
fore Red  Peony  shut  the  door.  Orchid,  still  in  a 

[137] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


blank  amazement,  said  to  her  father:  "But,  Tieh- 
tieh,  it  is  not  possible!  I  am  not  married!" 

"Have  no  fear,  my  child:  the  marriage  is  all  con- 
cluded," said  Wang  soothingly. 

"That  is  just  what  she  is  afraid  of — its  being  con- 
cluded," interrupted  the  little  servant  tartly.  "And 
she  has  not  even  seen  her  husband!" 

"Be  silent,  you  silly  chit!  You  know  very  well 
that  the  rites  forbid  the  affianced  pair  to  see  each  other 
before  the  wedding  ceremony." 

"Yes,  father,"  interrupted  Orchid,  "I  know  per- 
fectly well  that  the  custom  is  to  conclude  the  marriage 
of  one's  children  without  warning.  But  I  think  you 
might  have  asked  my  opinion,  or  told  me  that  you  had 
a  match  in  view  for  me."  And,  throwing  herself  on 
the  krang,  she  burst  into  tears. 

"Now,  now!"  said  her  father,  between  annoyance 
and  distress.  "Be  calm!  I  perceive  that  the  sur- 
prise, the  joy,  of  this  great  event — " 

"No,  it  is  not  that,"  said  poor  Orchid  sadly. 

"Of  course  it  isn't!"  said  Red  Peony  hotly.  "My 
poor  mistress!  Who  could  have  believed  that  you 
would  ever  be  treated  in  such  a  fashion?  Aya!" 

"What?  Not  the  joy?"  demanded  the  astonished 
old  man.  "But  you  are  to  marry  the  finest  young 
man  in  the  whole  province.  He  is  learned,  he  is  in 
good  health  and  handsome.  He  is  young;  he  has 
high  rank  and  a  considerable  fortune.  His  family 
has  the  highest  reputation:  his  father,  though  not,  in- 

[138] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


deed,  a  great  scholar,  is  a  most  worthy  man."  He 
patted  his  weeping  daughter  on  the  shoulder. 

"Ah,  Tieh-tieh!"  she  answered,  "I  am  too  unhappy! 
I  shall  throw  myself  into  a  well.  Oh,  can  you  not 
undo  this  marriage?" 

"Undo  the  marriage!  How  can  you  think  of  such 
a  thing?  Why,  the  billets  of  the  eight  ideograms 
have  been  exchanged.  It  would  be  a  frightful  scan- 
dal. We  should  be  dishonoured  and  ruined." 

"Then  I  shall  throw  myself  into  a  well!" 

"She  will  do  it,  too,"  affirmed  Red  Peony.  "And 
I  will  throw  myself  in  after  her." 

"These  females  will  drive  me  mad!  Reason  is  not 
in  them,"  stormed  the  old^man.  "Now,  what  is  it 
that  you  think  you  want?" 

"I  don't  want  to  be  married.  I  want  to  go  into  a 
temple,  cut  off  my  hair,  and  be  a  ni-koo" 

"A  priestess  of  Buddha!  You!  Dear,  dear!" 
mused  Wang.  "Now,  I  have  had  no  great  experience 
of  such  matters,  but  I  have  always  heard  it  said  that 
when  a  woman  refuses  to  marry  an  eligible  man,  it  is 
because  she  has  a  great  inclination  to  marry  another 
man.  Is  that  it?" 

"Of  course,"  interrupted  the  little  servant  sarcasti- 
cally. "You  imagine — " 

"Be  quiet,"  commanded  Orchid,  wiping  her  eyes 
and  sitting  up.  "Yes,  it  is  true.  I  love  another,  and 
I  have  promised  him  that  I  will  be  his  wife." 

"You!  My  daughter!"  Wang  lifted  up  his  arms 
[139] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


in  incredulous  despair.  "You!  You  have  seen  a 
man  without  my  consent?  You  have  spoken  to  him? 
You  have  promised  to  be  his  wife?  You  bring  dis- 
honour on  my  white  hair." 

"I  was  there,"  said  Red  Peony.  "And,  after  all, 
it  was  no  great  matter." 

"But,  at  least,  nobody  saw  you?  Nobody  knows 
anything  about  it?"  demanded  Wang  eagerly. 

"That  goes  without  saying,"  answered  Red  Peony 
with  disdain.  "We  are  not  so  stupid  as  to  dishonour 
ourselves." 

"Then,  if  nobody  knows  of  it,"  said  the  old  man, 
vastly  relieved,  "it  does  not  exist.  Why  mention  it 
at  all?" 

"Because  I  love  him!"  sobbed  the  young  girl.  "I 
love  him,  and  I  want  to  marry  him." 

"But  you  are  married  already! — But,  tell  me,  who 
is  this  man?" 

"You  know  him — a  neighbour." 

"A  neighbour?     I  know  him?" 

"Yes.  It  is  the  foreign  lord  who  lives  in  the 
temple." 

"A  foreigner!"  cried  the  old  man.  "My  daughter 
infatuated  with  a  Barbarian  of  the  Ocean!  The 
daughter  of  a  scholar  of  the  First  Degree!  What  are 
we  coming  to,  0  Sage  Krong  Foo-tse?  And  what 
wouldst  thou  do  in  such  case?" 

"I  know  what  they  say  about  this  new  husband  of 
yours,"  said  Red  Peony  bitingly.  "He  has  brought 

[140] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


a  First  Wife  back  from  Europe,  and  my  mistress  is  to 
be  her  servant." 

"You  know  nothing  whatever  about  it.  He  did  not 
marry  that  woman  acording  to  our  laws.  He  is  not 
married  to  her.  And  the  great  red  sedan-chair  of 
first  wives  is  going  to  take  my  daughter  away  to- 
night." 

"Tonight!"  exclaimed  the  two  girls  in  equal  dismay. 

"Tonight,"  he  repeated  inexorably. 

"Then  I  am  going  away,"  said  Red  Peony,  starting 
toward  the  door,  "and  I  will  never,  never  come  back." 

"Let  her  go:  she  is  daft,"  said  Wang  to  Orchid, 
who  had  jumped  from  the  krang  in  order  to  cling  to 
her  servant. 

Red  Peony  simulated  resistance.  Under  cover  of 
the  pretended  struggle  which  followed,  she  whispered : 
"We  must  prevent  this  at  any  cost.  I  will  go  and 
tell  him."  Then,  aloud:  "I  will  stay,  then,  but  you 
shall  never  see  me  outside  the  kitchen  again." 

"So  much  the  better,"  mumbled  Wang. 

The  little  maid  went  out,  banging  the  door. 

"Yes,"  said  Wang,  "the  sedan-chair  comes  to- 
night. The  gifts,  the  jewels,  and  the  robes  will  ar- 
rive in  a  few  minutes.  You  will  see,  when  the  silken 
garments  are  in  a  heap  on  the  table — when  the  golden 
bracelets,  the  rings  sparkling  with  precious  stones,  the 
necklaces,  and  the  pearl  head-dresses  glitter  before 
your  eyes — you  will  see  that  then  you  will  very  easily 
forget  your  foreigner." 

[141] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Never,  father.     Never." 

"Moreover,  all  this  evil  comes  from  the  wrong  you 
yourself  have  done.  If  you  had  followed  the  rites, 
if  you  had  concealed  nothing  from  me,  then,  if  you 
had  told  me  that  you  loved  some  one,  I  would  have 
said  so  to  the  Honourable  Intermediary." 

"I  know  it  was  wrong,"  she  confessed  humbly. 
"But  it  happened  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly!" 

"And  this  foreigner  is  not  so  bad.  He  is  as 
learned  as  your  husband.  He  would  have  made  a 
very  tolerable  son-in-law.  But  what  can  I  do?  The 
rites  were  devised  precisely  to  prevent  such  painful 
occurrences  as  this.  If  we  do  not  obey  them,  we 
must  take  the  consequences  of  our  acts.  We  all  have 
to  accept  our  fate  when  we  cannot  do  otherwise. 
Now,  you  had  better  wipe  your  eyes  and  make  your- 
self ready.  The  marriage  gifts  will  be  here  any 
minute.  As  for  me,  I  will  go  and  look  after  my 
flowers.  They  are  more  reasonable  than  a  good 
many  human  beings." 

And,  deeply  troubled  by  his  daughter's  sorrow,  old 
Wang  went  out,  not  forgetting,  however,  to  leave  his 
formal  robe  and  hat  on  a  chair  behind  him. 


[142] 


XIII 

ORCHID  remained  on  the  krang  for  a  long  time, 
leaning  her  smooth  forehead  pensively  on  the 
white  jade  fingers  of  her  hand.  "What  can  I  do?" 
she  asked  herself  over  and  over.  "If  the  billets  of 
the  eight  ideograms  have  been  exchanged,  the  mar- 
riage is  consummated.  My  father  and  the  Chen  fam- 
ily alone  know  it,  true — they  and  the  Honourable  In- 
termediary. But  the  contract  is  one  that  cannot  be 
broken.  My  father  would  be  dishonoured.  There  is 
nothing  we  can  do:  appearances  must  be  kept  up. 
After  the  wedding,  some  day,  I  will  just  discreetly 
die.  So  many  brides  do  that,  that  no  one  will  be 
astonished.  Alas,  I  was  so  happy,  though!  And 
now  I  must  die,  and  I  don't  want  to  die.  How  un- 
stable and  transient  everything  is!  One  day  poor,  on 
the  morrow  rich.  In  the  morning,  happy;  in  the 
evening,  filled  with  despair!"  The  tears  coursed 
slowly  down  her  cheeks. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened.  Mackensie  entered 
with  Red  Peony.  He  rushed  to  her.  "Orchid,  my 
love!"  he  cried.  "Is  it  true?  that  they  want  to  give 
you  to  another?  But  it  is  impossible!  We  have  ex- 
changed sacred  promises,  we  are  plighted  to  each 
other." 

[143] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Don't  come  near  me,"  said  Orchid,  disengaging 
her  hand  from  his  grasp.  "Don't  touch  me!  I  am 
married.  Alas,  we  are  lost." 

"Married!  It  is  not  possible.  Your  father  would 
surely  have  told  you  beforehand.  Even  in  China  it 
is  not  done  so  precipitately  as  that." 

"They  had  to  hurry  things  for  fear  of  the  foreign 
woman,"  explained  Red  Peony.  "They  don't  wish 
the  Young  Lord  to  be  influenced  by  her.  That  is  why 
the  presentation  to  the  witnesses  is  to  be  made  this 
evening  as  soon  as  the  new  husband  returns." 

"There  is  nothing  that  can  be  done,"  said  Orchid 
sadly.  "The  billets  have  been  exchanged:  my  mar- 
riage is  a  fact." 

"A  fact,  yes,  but  it  has  not  been  celebrated,"  ob- 
jected Red  Peony.  "The  foreign  lady  may  yet  have 
something  to  say." 

"Not  one  word,"  admitted  Mackensie.  "Her  mar- 
riage in  Europe  has  made  her  a  Chinese." 

"Alas,"  cried  Orchid  again,  "we  are  torn  apart! 
We  shall  never  be  able  to  go  away  together,  alone  to- 
gether, ignoring  everything  else  in  a  long,  happy 
dream,  knowing  no  pleasures  except  each  other's. 
I  shall  never  link  my  arm  in  yours,  enjoying  all  things 
with  you,  happy  to  see  you,  to  listen  to  your  voice,  in- 
toxicated by  the  bliss  that  would  come  from  your 
presence,  and  trying  to  give  it  back  to  you.  We  shall 
never  be  together,  cheek  pressed  against  cheek,  silent 
because  we  are  too  happy  to  speak." 

[144] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"No,  no!"  answered  Mackensie  firmly.  "Our 
happiness  shall  flow  along  like  the  pure  waters  of  a 
river,  lost  now  for  a  moment  underground,  but  com- 
ing out  into  the  sunlight  again  after  a  little.  We  are 
bound  to  each  other  for  ever.  The  eternal  stars  have 
been  our  witnesses.  The  breeze  has  borne  our 
pledges  to  the  Shades  who  people  the  night.  The 
moon,  shining  through  the  leaves,  has  covered  us  to- 
gether with  the  sheen  of  its  silver  veil.  You  are  my 
bride,  and  I  will  not  let  you  go." 

Orchid,  listening  to  his  voice,  his  words,  lost  all 
realizing  sense  of  the  fact  of  her  marriage.  Besides, 
he  had  taken  her  into  his  arms. 

Red  Peony,  with  characteristically  discreet  fore- 
thought, had  stationed  herself  by  the  door.  She  now 
interrupted  the  lovers  suddenly  by  exclaiming:  "Sh! 
Somebody!  Go  away!  Hurry!" 

Mackensie,  fearing  to  compromise  Orchid,  ran  to 
the  door.  But  Red  Peony  stopped  him.  "No,  no, 
not  that  way!  Too  late!  Hide  yourself  somewhere. 
Come."  And  she  pushed  him  quickly  into  the 
women's  apartments,  the  door  of  which  she  then  shut 
quickly  to.  "Just  in  time,"  she  breathed.  "A  min- 
ute more,  and  there  would  have  been  a  fine  scandal. 
— It  is  the  foreign  lady  who  is  coming,  Little  Elder 
Sister.  Keep  her  here  while  I  try  to  help  him  get 
away  unseen."  And  she,  too,  disappeared  silently 
through  the  door  of  the  women's  apartments. 

Orchid  went  slowly  to  the  door.  With  rigid  self- 
[145] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


mastery,  she  regained  the  leisurely  and  graceful 
languor  of  her  natural  carriage.  The  thousand 
pleats  of  her  multi-coloured  skirt  showed  as  she 
walked. 

Monique  was  at  the  threshold.  She  entered,  say- 
ing hastily:  "Peace  be  with  you,  my  charming  Or- 
chid! I  came  as  quickly  as  I  could,  in  order  to  speak 
to  you  about  an  extraordinary  story — " 

"Peace  be  with  you,"  interrupted  Orchid. 

" — A  story  which  concerns  both  of  us." 

"Pray  be  seated,"  Orchid  continued  non-commit- 
tally,  indicating  a  place  on  the  krang. 

"My  husband,  who  is  absent,  returns  this  evening. 
Just  now  a  servant  whom  we  had  with  us  in  Europe 
told  me  the  most  incredible  tale.  He  said  that  you — 
that  my  husband — in  short,  that  my  father-in-law  is 
to  give  tonight  a  reception  in  honour  of  your  mar- 
riage to  my  husband.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
this?" 

"My  father  has  just  informed  me  that  he  has  this 
day  concluded  my  marriage  to  the  eldest  son  of  our 
Lord  Chen,"  answered  Orchid,  still  guardedly. 

"But — impossible!  My  husband  is  married  to  me. 
— Yes — it  is  true — in  China,  polygamy  is  legal.  But 
— why,  it  is  maddening!  I  will  never  allow  such  a 
thing!  And  my  husband — what  will  he  say  when 
they  tell  him?" 

"He  knows  nothing  of  it  yet,  they  tell  me." 

"He  knows  nothing  of  it!  Then  how  on  earth  can 
[146] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


they  imagine  that  he  will  let  himself  be  married  to 
you  tonight?" 

"But  his  marriage  has  already  been  concluded — 
this  morning.  His  father  and  mine  exchanged  the 
necessary  formal  documents." 

"Married  without  knowing  it?  That  is  simply 
beyond  belief." 

"Surely  you  have  been  long  enough  among  us  to 
know  that  the  parents  alone  arrange  and  conclude  a 
marriage.  Sometimes  they  celebrate  the  marriage  of 
children  still  in  their  cradles." 

"Then  my  husband  is  married  to  you!"  Monique 
laughed  hysterically.  "Then  you  and  I  are — what 
do  they  call  this  new  relationship:  co-wives? — And 
the  marriage  is  actually  irrevocable?" 

"Tonight,  after  the  presentation  to  the  witnesses,  it 
will  be  irrevocable.  Alas!" 

"You  say  'alas.'  Did  you  not,  then,  wish  this 
union?"  asked  Monique. 

"Wish  it!  I  should  say  not!  But  what  can  I  do? 
Parents  are  the  absolute  masters  of  their  children. 
They  can  sell  them,  kill  them;  children  must  obey — 
and,  if  they  are  unhappy,  die." 

"Then  you  are  not  in  love  with  my  husband?" 

"In  love  with  him!  Indeed  I  am  not! — Oh,  ex- 
cuse me!  I  did  not  mean  to  be  rude.  But  I  have 
never  seen  him." 

"Then — if  my  husband — you  and  I — we — do  not 
want  this  union,  nobody  can  force  us  into  it." 

[147] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"The  marriage  is  already  concluded,"  repeated  Or- 
chid wearily.  "And  tonight  there  will  be  the  presen- 
tation to  the  witnesses." 

"Yes — my  husband  once  told  me  about  that.  The 
bride  is  covered  with  a  great  thick  veil  which  is  not 
lifted  until  the  end  of  the  ceremony.  What  an  agony 
for  the  man  who  has  actually  never  seen  his  bride — 
and  what  a  shock!  Thank  you,  I  prefer  our  customs. 
That  thick  veil  might  cover  any  face — " 

"The  spirit,  the  soul,  is  alone  important  to  the 
family,"  answered  Orchid  gravely.  "The  body  and 
the  features  only  trouble  our  senses  and  unbalance 
the  judgment.  They  cause  all  the  worst  of  our  er- 
rors." 

"All  that  is  true  enough,  little  sage,"  agreed  Mon- 
ique  affectionately.  "But,  anyway,  I  prefer  to  keep 
my  husband  for  myself.  Believe  me,  I  feel  the  great- 
est sympathy  for  you.  You  are  adorable,  and  I  am 
very  fond  of  you.  Only  I  cannot  admit  that  my  hus- 
band ought  to  be  yours,  too.  No  Western  woman 
would  ever  accept  any  such  arrangement." 

"Yet  there  is  nothing  in  it  to  be  disturbed  about," 
said  Orchid.  "I  assure  you  that,  here,  few  women 
suffer  from  the  practice.  For  example,  I  should 
hardly  care  to  be  the  only  wife  of  my  husband." 

"Thank  you  for  the  'husband',"  said  Monique  iron- 
ically. 

"He  is  not  always  at  home,  and  when  there  is  no 
other  wife  you  are  alone  the  whole  day  long.  More- 

[148] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


over,  if  there  are  no  children,  the  house  is  as  still  as 
a  tomb." 

"But— love?" 

"It  is  not  everything.  And  if  the  wives  like  one 
another,  that  is  happiness.  Think  of  the  pleasure  it 
is  to  live  all  the  time  with  a  true  friend,  nearer  than 
a  sister,  with  whom  one  shares  one's  joys  and  sorrows ; 
in  whom  one  can  confide  when  in  trouble,  and  with 
whom  one  has  everything  in  common — riches,  hon- 
ours, children — " 

"And  her  husband!  the  most  important  item  of  all, 
to  one  who  loves.  But  you  cannot  understand  that: 
you  have  never  loved." 

"Never  loved?"  answered  Orchid  mournfully. 
"Alas,  it  is  because  I  love  that  I  >am  so  unhappy." 

"You  do  love!     And  not  my  husband?" 

"Oh,  no!     Again,  excuse  me — " 

"And  this  you  can  tell  me,  his  wife!" 

"What  can  it  matter?  My  life  is  not  to  be  a  long 
one." 

"Is  it  so  desperate  as  that?  Don't  be  afraid. 
-You  know  me.  I  will  keep  your  secret.  But  tell  me 
— whom  do  you  love?" 

"One  of  your  race." 

"A  foreigner?  There  is  only  one  in  the  whole  re- 
gion. Mackensie,  then?" 

"Yes,"  said  Orchid.  Her  head  drooped,  and  once 
more  the  tears  ran  down  her  pallid  cheeks. 

"My  poor  child!"  Monique  took  both  the  girl's 
[149] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


hands  between  her  own,  looking  down  at  her  com- 
passionately. "And  he  loves  you?" 

"Yes — I  am  sure  of  it.  He  said  so,  and — I  know 
it.  Oh,  if  you  could  only  help  us  to  break  this  mar- 
riage! You  Westerners  are  such  magicians." 

"Help  you?  My  own  happiness,  too,  is  at  stake. 
But  what  can  we  do?  I  am  hated  by  my  mother-in- 
law,  and  all  round  me  there  is  a  hostility  which  vents 
itself  in  a  thousand  ways.  When  my  husband  comes 
back,  everything  will  be  straightened  out,  I  am  confi- 
dent.— But  this  Mr.  Mackensie  knows  China  well: 
he  might  hit  upon  some  way.  What  does  he  pro- 
pose?" 

"You  ought  to  see  him,"  suggested  Orchid. 

"I  could  not  go  to  his  house,  nor  could  he  come 
to  mine.  Either,  I  know,  would  be  very  danger- 


ous." 


"Well,"  said  Orchid,  haltingly  and  with  a  blush, 
"will  you  promise  me  not  to  tell  a  soul  what  I  am  go- 
ing to  confide  to  you?  Above  all,  not  to  your  hus- 
band?" 

"More  secrets?"  asked  Monique,  smiling.  "Yes, 
I  promise." 

"Mr.  Mackensie  was  here  a  minute  ago,"  said  Or- 
chid, making  an  end  of  the  mystery.  "He  hid  in  my 
room  when  you  came." 

"Little  deceiver!"  exclaimed  Monique,  amused  in 
spite  of  herself.  "Ah,  ah!  Chinese  women  are  not 
different  from  their  Western  sisters  when  love  is  lead- 

[150] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ing  them.     No,  don't  be  angry  with  me!  and  send 
for  your  friend  at  once." 

Orchid  hesitated  for  only  an  instant,  her  large, 
silently  imploring  eyes  lifted  toward  Monique.  The 
level  and  loyal  regard  of  the  European  woman  reas- 
sured her.  She  went  forthwith  to  the  door  of  her 
room  and  called  softly.  Red  Peony  appeared. 
"Tell  him  to  come,"  commanded  Orchid. 

"Here?  where  the  foreign  woman  is?"  asked  the 
little  servant,  astonished. 

"Yes.     And  hurry!     I  have  told  her  all." 

Red  Peony  went  into  the  room.  Almost  instantly 
Mackensie  appeared.  He  bowed  silently  to  Mon- 
ique. 

He  was  the  first  European  she  had  seen  since  leav- 
ing the  last  foreign  settlement.  She  was  exceedingly 
embarrassed  for  a  moment;  then,  prompted  by  an  in- 
explicable trust,  she  frankly  held  out  her  hand.  "In 
the  circumstances,"  she  said,  "I  think  we  had  better 
speak  openly  and  without  loss  of  time.  Orchid  has 
told  me  all  about  you.  And  you  know  all  about  us. 
My  husband  will  be  back  tonight,  just  in  time  for  the 
ceremony,  and  too  late  to  help  us  out  of  danger.  He 
would  know  how  to  stop  all  this  tragi-comedy  if  he 
were  here.  You  want  to  marry  Orchid.  I  am  re- 
solved to  make  a  scene  or  a  scandal  rather  than  accept 
the  proposed  situation.  My  husband  can  be  counted 
on  to  approve  whatever  we  do.  But  what  can  we 
do?" 

[151] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"This  marriage  drives  me  to  desperation,"  an- 
swered Mackensie,  "and  I,  too,  am  completely  deter- 
mined to  do  anything  whatever  to  stop  it,  even  at  the 
risk  of  my  life.  But  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  that 
we  are  in  a  very  precarious  position,  and  that  I  can- 
not guarantee  your  life  if  we  fail.  We  are  in  a  coun- 
try in  which  they  do  not  take  certain  things  as  laugh- 
ing matters.  Just  now,  for  instance,  if  any  one 
should  enter  'and  see  us  together — " 

"Yes?"  she  encouraged  him. 

" — It  would  be  enough  to  get  us  both  sentenced  to 
death  for  adultery." 

"Oh!     Is  it  possible?" 

"Quite.  So,  you  see,  we  must  think  before  we 
act." 

"But,  even  so,  we  must  do  something.  There  is  no 
time  to  write  to  the  Consul — " 

"The  Consul?"  repeated  Mackensie.  "But  by 
your  marriage  you  have  lost  your  nationality.  You 
are  Chinese,  and  amenable  to  Chinese  laws  only." 

"Then  what  are  we  to  do?  You  are  not  too  en- 
couraging! Do  let  us  hurry,  I  implore  you.  Think 
up  a  plan.  You  must  know  what  to  do:  you 
have  been  here  in  China  a  long  time." 

Mackensie  shrugged  his  shoulders  hopelessly. 

At  that  moment  Red  Peony,  who  had  again  posted 
herself  on  guard  at  the  door,  interrupted  them. 
"Run  away!  Quickly!  Here  come  the  wedding 
presents!" 

[152] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Mackensie  again  started  for  the  women's  apart- 
ments, but  Red  Peony  stopped  him.  "No,  not  there! 
The  presents  will  be  put  in  that  room,  according  to 
custom,  and  the  Little  Elder  Sister  must  receive  them. 
If  you  are  seen,  all  is  lost." 

"But  where  shall  I  go?" 

"Leave  the  house  at  once,  by  the  front  door.  They 
will  think  that  you  came  to  see  the  master.  Hurry!" 

The  young  man  had  already  opened  the  door  and 
crossed  the  threshold.  But  while  he  was  still  hold- 
ing the  doorknob,  the  others  heard  voices  from  out- 
side. "Too  late!"  exclaimed  Red  Peony.  "Let  us 
at  least  save  the  Little  Sister."  And  she  hurriedly 
pushed  her  mistress  into  the  inner  room. 

Simultaneously  there  appeared  at  the  door  a  man 
in  formal  dress,  holding  aloft  a  long  strip  of  red 
paper.  Monique  recognized  him  as  the  Steward  of 
the  Palace.  "0  Lord  Wang!"  he  cried  at  the  top  of 
his  lungs,  "0  Great  Maternal  Uncle!  The  Auspicious 
Presents,  the  Honourable  Presents!  Who  receives 
them?"  Behind  him  appeared  a  procession  of  port- 
ers carrying  two  by  two,  with  their  long  poles,  in- 
numerable boxes  and  pieces  of  furniture  tied  with  red 
cord. 

Pushing  them  aside,  Wang  entered  hastily.  "Here 
I  am.  I  saw  the  procession  from  afar,  but  my  old 
legs  would  not  carry  me  fast  enough.  Wait  a  minute: 
I  must  dress  and  repair  to  the  ceremonial  place." 

While  he  was  hurriedly  donning  his  formal  robe 
[153] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


and  hat — the  same  which  he  had  earlier  left  on  a 
chair  in  the  room — he  caught  sight  of  Monique.  He 
stared  at  her,  aghast.  "You!  Is  it  you,  0  Great 
Nurse,  who  accompany  the  presents  for  the  new  wife 
of  your  husband?  Oh,  truly,  this  is  excess  of  virtue 
on  your  part.  Let  me  kneel  before  you!" 

"No,  no — I  did  not — ,"  interrupted  Monique  stam- 
meringly. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  really  must  do  it,"  repeated  the  old 
man.  "To  accompany  the  wedding  presents  of  your 
husband's  new  wife!  Such  nobility  of  soul,  such 
lofty  feelings  have  never  before  been  recorded.  I 
must  report  it  to  the  Governor  of  the  City.  He  will 
cite  you  as  an  example  to  the  whole  Empire." 

"But  I  assure  you — " 

The  old  man  was  not  to  be  suppressed.  "And  what 
a  propitious  omen  for  the  future  happiness  of  my 
daughter!  And  to  think  that  I  feared  your  influence! 
Ah,  these  Westerners  really  are  different  from  us,  and 
sometimes  they  are  wonderful." 

All  this  time  Mackensie  had  been  standing  irreso- 
lute near  the  door.  Wang  now  saw  him,  too,  and 
greeted  him  with  the  words:  "Ten  thousand  felic- 
ities, 0  Great  Man!" 

"Ten  thousand  congratulations  and  good  wishes," 
responded  Mackensie.  "I  came  to  offer  you  my  fe- 
licitations and  best  hopes." 

"You  have  tired  the  horses  of  your  coach,  and  I 


am  overcome." 


[154] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"I  beg  of  you,  no  rites  between  neighbours. — But 
please  to  receive  the  presents  now:  I  know  you  must 
not  keep  them  waiting." 

"Since  you  allow  me,  then,"  said  Wang.  Turning 
to  the  steward,  he  put  on  a  solemn  face.  The  other 
knelt  and  presented  his  long  strip  of  red  paper. 
"Here  is  the  list  of  the  most  Honourable  Presents," 
said  the  man.  "Please  examine  and  compare." 

"It  is  perfectly  correct,"  answered  Wang,  mechani- 
cally and  without  looking,  knowing  very  well  that  a 
good  many  of  the  gifts  had  mysteriously  disappeared 
en  route.  "Wait,"  he  added,  drawing  a  silver  ingot 
from  his  sleeve.  "Here  is  a  trifling  gift  to  distribute 
among  the  porters." 

"Impossible  to  accept  it,"  answered  the  steward, 
rising.  "They  have  been  paid." 

"The  custom  is  to  accept — " 

"How  could  I  take  such  an  enormous  sum?"  in- 
sisted the  fellow,  taking  the  ingot  and  putting  it  into 
his  own  sleeve.  Then,  turning  to  the  porters: 
"Hurry  up,  there,  you!  Bring  the  robes  and  jewels 
for  the  new  bride,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

The  porters  crossed  the  threshold.  "Where  is  the 
Secret  Apartment,  that  I  may  take  the  presents  to 
it?"  asked  the  steward. 

"There,  directly  in  front  of  you,"  answered  Wang. 

"And  you  others,  go  and  fetch  the  nuptial  sedan- 
chair,"  added  the  steward.  "0  Great  Man  Wang, 
the  Master  said  that  you  would  arrange  everything  for 

[155] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  bridal  procession,  and  that  I  was  to  follow  your 
instructions." 

Mackensie  interrupted  at  this  point,  saying:  "You 
are  occupied;  I  will  go." 

"No,  no!  Stay,  do.  Just  excuse  me  for  one  min- 
ute, and  I  will  be  with  you." 

Eight  porters  had  brought  before  the  door  an  enor- 
mous closed  box  covered  with  red  silk.  The  panels 
of  its  sides  were  painted  with  gaudy  scenes,  and  its 
top  was  adorned  with  garlands  and  designs  in 
embroidery.  The  old  man  turned  round  this  huge 
object,  the  bridal  sedan-chair,  examining  it  to  make 
sure  that  all  the  ritual  details  had  been  observed. 

Meanwhile  Red  Peony,  standing  at  the  entrance  to 
the  women's  apartments,  made  a  sign  to  Mackensie. 
He  came  toward  her  and  bent  over  so  that  she  could 
whisper  in  his  ear.  He  listened  with  an  air  of  pro- 
found 'amazement.  Then,  with  Red  Peony,  he  went 
quickly  to  Monique  and  said  under  his  breath: 
"This  little  girl  has  an  idea.  It  is  very  perilous,  and 
if  it  should  not  succeed,  that  would  be  the  end  for  us 
all.  But  we  are  hopelessly  compromised  already. 
Let  us  make  the  attempt.  Do  exactly  as  she  tells 
you." 

"But — ,"  asked  Monique,  eager  to  know  what  the 
scheme  was. 

"Sh!"  he  said,  stepping  back  to  the  door.  "She 
will  tell  you.  Let  her  take  you  aside." 

Red  Peony  was  already  tugging  at  Monique's 
[156] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


sleeve.  She  conducted  her  now  into  the  women's 
apartments. 

Wang  returned  with  the  steward.  "You  under- 
stand?" he  was  saying.  "The  fluteplayers  are  to  go 
ahead." 

"Yes,  0  Great  Man." 

"Then  half  of  the  men  with  red  lanterns;  then  the 
musical  instruments;  then  the  other  half  of  the  men 
with  red  lanterns." 

"I  will  see  to  it." 

The  porters  now  brought  the  sedan-chair  into  the 
room,  an  operation  not  of  the  easiest,  judging  by  their 
grunts  and  objurgations.  "Hi,  there!  move  on,  you 
fishbone!"  said  one.  "Stop  where  you  are,  you 
devil!"  responded  the  other.  "That's  a  pretty 
trick — speaking  of  devils  in  the  bride's  house!  You 
squashed  dog!" 

"Silence,  you  curs!"  shouted  the  steward.  "The 
first  to  speak  dies  under  the  bamboo  sticks." 

"All  right,  all  right!"  grumbled  the  porters. 
"Who's  saying  a  word?" 

Wang  resumed  his  instructions  to  the  steward. 
"And  be  careful  to  have  the  procession  pass  through 
all  the  principal  streets,  according  to  the  custom — 
in  front  of  the  Governor's  Palace,  the  High  School, 
and  the  Temple  of  Literature." 

"It  shall  be  so,  0  Great  Man." 

"Oh!  and  mind  the  heralds.  Let  them  clearly  pro- 
claim 'Marriage  of  the  Wang  family  with  the  Chen 

[157] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


family.'     They  must  not  alter  the  names.     It  brings 
had  luck." 

"It  shall  be  seen  to." 

"Mind  you  don't  let  them  go  too  fast. — Now  I  must 
dress.  You  are  to  go  as  quickly  as  possible  and  in- 
form the  Lord  Chen,  so  that  everything  may  be  ready 
for  the  witnesses  before  the  sedan-chair  arrives." 

"Oh,  we  shall  not  be  back  for  two  hours  at  the 
least." 

The  musicians  of  the  procession  had  already 
grouped  themselves  on  either  side  of  the  door,  and 
were  tuning  their  instruments.  Neighbours,  attracted 
by  the  news  or  wishing  to  manifest  their  respect  for 
Wang,  as  well  as  naturally  keen  to  witness  a  minor 
festival,  had  come  in  fairly  large  numbers  and  now 
stood  outside,  laughing  and  chatting.  A  current  of 
gaiety  and  goodwill  ran  through  the  assemblage. 

"The  Great  Western  Nurse  is  in  the  women's  apart- 
ments?" asked  Wang  of  Mackensie. 

"She  said  she  would  help  with  the  toilet  of  your 
Precious  Jewel,"  answered  the  Englishman. 

"Admirable,  admirable!"  exclaimed  Wang,  with 
an  accent  of  profound  conviction. 

Just  then  Red  Peony  showed  her  head  through  the 
half -opened  door,  and  asked:  "Is  the  sedan-chair 
here?  Are  the  players  ready?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  steward.  "Everything  is 
ready." 

"Then  let  them  begin  to  pipe  and  pluck." 
[158] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


The  twenty  musicians,  who  had  been  only  waiting 
for  a  signal,  immediately  struck  up  the  Wedding 
March,  that  'ancient  and  entrancing  melody  which 
shouted:  "Ten  thousand  felicities  to  the  bride! 
nobody  can  hear  without  delight.  The  neighbours 
May  the  Star  of  Joy  shine  on  her  house!  Happiness 
and  Peace!  Luck  and  Pleasure!"  Red  Peony, 
flushed  and  excited,  emerged  at  last,  holding  open  the 
door  of  the  apartments  within.  A  woman,  wholly 
covered  by  an  immense  red  silk  veil  embroidered  with 
gold  and  pearls,  followed  her  slowly  to  the  sedan- 
chair.  Wang  opened  the  red  silk  door  and,  with  a 
grave  and  happy  countenance,  shut  it  again  as  soon 
as  all  the  pleats  of  the  skirt  had  been  carefully  tucked 
in. 

"Congratulations  and  myriads  of  good  wishes,  my 
dear  child!"  he  murmured. 

And,  to  the  invariable  chanted  and  rhythmic  "Oh, 
oh! — oh,  oh! — oh,  oh!"  of  their  occupation,  the  eight 
porters  picked  up  their  heavy  and  exquisite  burden 
and  took  their  place  in  the  wedding  procession. 


[159] 


XIV 

WHEN  this  same  day  had  drawn  to  its  close 
and  twilight  set  in,  the  Reception  Hall  in  the 
Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers  had  become  a  won- 
drous spectacle.  On  each  of  the  small  tables  set 
about  among  the  chairs  stood  heavy  gold  or  silver 
candlesticks.  The  thick  candles,  already  lighted, 
cast  a  brilliant  light  on  the  priceless  porcelain  vases 
beside  them,  on  the  carved  and  gilded  panellings  of 
the  walls.  Huge  bunches  of  aromatic  flowers  filled 
the  room  with  perfumes.  A  low  carved  balustrade 
ran  along  the  open  side  of  the  hall. 

Out  in  the  courtyard,  enormous  globe-like  lanterns 
covered  with  red  gauze  cast  a  ruddy  light  on  the 
sombre  foliage  of  the  ancient  cedars  and  multiplied 
the  shadows  of  fantastic  bronze  animals  disposed  in 
rows  on  either  side  of  the  central  path.  The  illumi- 
nation, though  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  the  oc- 
casion, had  artfully  been  kept  to  a  subdued  brilliancy 
which  doubled  its  effectiveness.  It  suppressed  the 
mystery  of  night,  communicated  the  pleasure  and  se- 
curity of  being  outside  it,  without  suppressing  the 
night  itself.  Shadows  lurked  in  the  corners  and,  by 
contrast,  gave  the  bystanders  a  keener  sense  of  the 

[160] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


lighted  parts,  enhancing  so  the  inherent  contrast  be- 
tween day's  gaiety  and  night's  grimness. 

Within  the  hall,  the  First  Wife  was  darting  from 
one  point  to  another,  scolding  the  servants,  arranging 
plates  laden  with  fruits,  or  changing  the  position  of 
a  cup  filled  with  cakes.  She  was  covered  with  jewels. 
On  her  head  was  a  complicated  edifice  of  pearls. 
Round  her  neck  were  several  ranks  of  precious  stones 
— emeralds,  rubies,  enormous  pearls.  Bracelets  al- 
most concealed  her  wrists.  Her  fingers  were  covered 
with  magnificent  rings.  Her  robe  was  decorated  with 
the  variegated  and  intricate  embroideries  prescribed 
for  her  rank.  The  pleats  of  her  skirt  were  stiffened 
with  flowers  of  gold. 

Chen  was  dressed  in  his  robe  of  state,  and  as  he 
walked  his  short  fat  body  was  supported  by  two 
servants.  A  man  of  his  position  in  life  must  not 
walk  alone.  Chen's  face  wore,  just  now,  a  look  of 
troubled  apprehension.  "Is  everything  ready?"  he 
asked  his  wife. 

She  wheeled  toward  him  as  if  something  had  bitten 
her.  "That's  it!"  she  snapped.  "Find  fault! 
Make  unpleasant  remarks!  You  don't  do  anything, 
you  have  no  responsibility.  You  come  round  when 
everything  is  all  done,  and  then  you  complain!" 

"But,  my  dear,"  he  protested,  "I'm  not  complain- 
ing. On  the  contrary,  I  think  everything  is  splendid. 
I  am  admiring  it.  And,  indeed,  it  is  admirable.  It 
is  going  to  be  a  beautiful  party.  It's  perfect.  I 

[161] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


merely  asked  if  the  preparations  were  all  finished." 

"You  needn't  ask  any  questions  at  all.  It  will  be 
just  as  well,"  retorted  the  old  lady  drily. 

"My  dear  First  Wife,  aren't  you  the  least  bit  nerv- 
ous this  evening?  Just  what  is  the  matter?" 

"Nothing  whatever.  But  you  men — oh,  you  are 
hateful.  I  manage  every  single  thing  in  this  Palace; 
I  am  up  at  daylight;  and  when  night  has  come  and 
curfew  sounded,  I  have  to  go  the  rounds  and  make 
sure  that  everything  is  closed  for  the  night  and  that 
the  watchmen  are  not  sleeping  on  their  job.  And 
what  do  I  get  for  it  all?  Nothing  but  disagreeable 
comments!  'Is  it  ready?  What!  not  yet  finished?' 
I  have  had  enough  of  it!  Repudiate  me  if  you  like. 
Send  me  away — if  you  dare.  After  tonight,  I  won't 
look  after  one  single  thing." 

"There,  there,  my  dear!"  said  her  fat  husband 
wheedlingly,  going  to  her  and  patting  her  shoulder. 
"There!  do  be  calm.  You  have  done  a  little  too 
much  today  and  got  yourself  tired  out.  What  you 
need  is  a  little  rest." 

"A  rest?  Is  that  so!"  sneered  the  First  Wife. 
"And  who  is  to  take  my  place,  I  want  to  know? — Let 
me  alone!  You  never  cared  anything  about  me,  any- 
way. Have  I  ever  forgotten  my  duties  for  a  mo- 
ment? Have  I  ever  caused  public  opinion  to  be  ill- 
disposed  toward  your  house?  And  your  receptions 
— aren't  they  praised  as  being  the  finest  in  the 
province?" 

[162] 


In  the-  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"They  certainly  are,"  affirmed  Chen  with  convic- 
tion. "And  you  do  me  an  injustice,  my  dear,  for  I 
have  always  rendered  the  most  devout  homage  to  your 
virtues,  your  abilities,  your  tireless  energy." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  about  that!"  fumed  his  wife. 
"You  have  rendered  the  mosl  devout  homage  to  my 
virtues  by  having  seven  secondary  wives — different 
ones  every  month!" 

"But,  my  dear!  a  few  mere  servants  without  either 
beauty  or  wit!" 

"Now,  if  I  had  been  as  shameless  as  your  friend 
Pong's  wife — " 

"Sh,  sh!"  Chen  looked  round  guardedly. 

"Yes,  that's  it!  You  want  me  to  keep  my  mouth 
shut — me,  the  faithful  wife.  Those  others  get  all  the 
consideration." 

"Here  you  are,  now,  red  in  the  face  and  angry," 
said  Chen,  aggrieved.  "Something  must  be  the  mat- 
ter. Won't  you  tell  me  about  it?" 

"There's  nothing  at  all,  I  tell  you.  Now  stop  pes- 
tering me."  But  after  a  moment's  silence,  she  took 
her  husband's  arm,  motioned  away  the  servants, 
and  said  in  a  low  voice:  "Well,  yes,  there  is  some- 
thing." 

"I  knew  it,  I  knew  it!"  said  Chen  good-naturedly. 
"Nothing  serious,  I  hope?" 

"On  the  contrary,  it's  very  serious  indeed." 

"You  frighten  me.  Is  the  Viceroy  going  to  de- 
grade me?" 

[163] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"No!"  she  exploded.  "Always  thinking  about 
yourself — " 

"What  is  it,  then?     Speak!" 

"You  are  going  to  have  to  sentence  a  member  of 
your  family  to  death,"  said  the  old  lady  gloomily. 

"Oh,  is  that  all?"  said  Chen,  vastly  relieved.  "A 
slave  has  smashed  some  porcelain  plates,  I  suppose." 

"I'll  thank  you  not  to  joke  about  it,  if  you  please. 
You  are  stupid.  I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  it  to 
you  at  all.  I  ought  to  have  done  as  I  did  last  time. 
Then  you  would  have  had  to  be  serious  about  it." 

"Ouch!  Please  don't  try  that  sort  of  thing  again," 
said  Chen,  worried.  "I  had  to  give  the  Chief  of 
Police  a  hundred  ounces  of  silver  to  keep  him  from 
turning  in  a  report  of  the  matter.  No,  I  thank  you! 
Executing  people  without  an  official  sentence!  These 
aren't  the  good  old  days  of  my  youth.  Now  the  Chief 
of  Police  has  to  be  present  when  sentence  is  passed, 
and  he  must  approve  of  it:  otherwise,  we  are  not  en- 
titled to  behead  or  strangle  a  slave  who  pilfers  or 
speaks  impudently.  All  our  private  liberties  are  be- 
ing taken  away  nowadays. — But  in  the  meantime,  will 
you  tell  me  what  it  is — yes  or  no?" 

"Well,  then:  Today  our  steward  escorted  the  pro- 
cession which  took  the  wedding  presents  to  our  new 
daughter-in-law — " 

"And  a  very  charming  daughter-in-law  you  are  go- 
ing to  find  in  her,"  interrupted  the  old  man.  "She 
knows  the  rites  to  perfection." 

[164] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Don't  you  suppose  I  know  it?  Otherwise,  I 
shouldn't  have  picked  her  out." 

"Well,  go  on:  the  steward—?" 

" — Saw,  in  Wang's  house,  the  young  barbarian 
woman  whom  your  son  brought  back  from  Europe." 
Her  manner  was  portentous. 

"Well?" 

"Well,  she  was  alone  in  the  reception-room  with 
the  foreigner  who  lives  in  the  pagoda — you  know 
whom  I  mean?  the  one  for  whom  you  are  respon- 
sible." 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Chen  wearily.  "Won't  the 
damned  steward  hold  his  tongue?  We  shall  have  to 
give  him  a  few  ounces  of  silver,  I  suppose." 

"He  has  already  told  the  other  servants  all  about 
it.  The  whole  city  probably  knows  it  by  this  time." 

"Ay a,  aya!  what  a  mess!"  groaned  the  old  man. 
"A  scandal — and  when  everything  was  going  so 
smoothly,  too!  Now  we  have  got  to  have  her 
strangled.  And  what  will  our  son  say?  Anyhow, 
we  can  have  that  steward  given  a  hundred  strokes 
with  the  bamboo.  That  will  teach  him  to  hold  his 
tongue  hereafter.  He  must  have  been  stark  mad  to 
blab  that  way,  in  a  case  of  life  and  death.  What  a 
slimy  piece  of  offal  he  is!" 

"Oh,  he  shall  have  his  hundred  strokes,  right 
enough;  an  example  must  be  made  of  him.  But  the 
other  must  be  strangled,  and  right  away.  I  knew  it 
would  turn  out  this  way!"  she  added  omnisciently. 

[165] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"The  hare  always  runs  back  to  his  first  cover,  and  the 
lost  wild  duck  always  finds  the  birds  of  his  feather. 
This  barbarian  was  bound  to  compromise  herself  with 
the  first  foreigner  she  happened  to  meet.  It  was 
fated." 

"But  what  a  nuisance!  What  a  nuisance!  Still, 
luckily  enough,  this  Mackensie  is  not  subject  to  our 
laws,  and  we  can't  touch  him.  Fancy  being  obliged 
to  strangle  a  man  for  whom  you  have  made  yourself 
personally  responsible!" 

"We  haven't  any  grudge  against  him,  anyway. 
There  is  going  to  be  a  scandal.  We  must  stop  it  by 
giving  a  sop  to  public  opinion.  That  means  the  death 
of  the  girl." 

"I  detest  these  judgments!"  grumbled  Chen.  "The 
accused  are  always  crying  and  groaning,  and  it  dis- 
tresses me  and  makes  it  hard  for  me  to  think  of  more 
important  considerations.  Besides,  your  son  is  sure 
to  make  all  sorts  of  difficulties.  He  seems  to  worship 
that  girl.  And  he  has  only  just  got  back,  they  tell 
me.  Have  you  spoken  to  him  about  it?" 

"Not  yet.  I  only  told  him  about  the  Viceroy's  at- 
titude." 

"That  is  really  much  more  important  than  this  silly 
mishap." 

"Then  suppose  you  break  it  to  him — the  woman's 
death,  I  mean." 

"I?  Well,  I  should  say  not!"  he  protested.  "I 
know  nothing  whatever  about  it.  You  will  do  it 

[166] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


much  better  than  I  could,  anyway.  You  have  to  be 
pretty  clever  to  handle  an  affair  like  this  as  it  should 
be  handled." 

"That  is  just  why  you  must  be  the  one  to  do  it. 
Besides,  it  is  a  mere  trifle,  just  as  you  said.  Tonight 
he  will  have  another  wife,  and  an  adorable  one,  too. 
There  is  no  reason  to  pity  him. — Oh!  I  ought  to  have 
told  you  that  I  sent  for  the  Chief  of  Police  as  soon  as 
I  heard  this  story.  He  may  be  here  any  minute  now. 
You  must  get  it  all  settled  before  the  guests  arrive." 

"You  sent  for  him?"  repeated  the  amazed  old  man. 
"And  what  if  I  had  refused  to  pass  sentence  on  the 
woman?" 

"You  haven't  refused,"  she  retorted  matter-of- 
factly.  "What  is  the  sense  of  talking  about  what 
might  have  happened?  In  such  an  important  matter 
as  this,  we  have  to  act  without  delay,  so  that  the  whole 
city  may  know  nothing  about  the  crime  until  they  also 
hear  of  the  punishment.  That  is  the  only  way  of  im- 
proving the  moral  sense  of  the  community." 

"You  are  right,  there — quite  right,"  he  assented. 

He  had  no  more  than  got  these  words  out  of  his 
mouth  when  Ming-ni  appeared,  formally  dressed. 
He  started  to  kneel;  but  Chen  stopped  him.  "Rise, 
my  dear  child.  It  is  my  duty,  rather,  to  bow  down 
to  your  new  dignity." 

"A  superior  never  bows  first,  and  you  will  always 
be  my  superior.  Mother,  I  have  greeted  you  already. 
But  where  is  Monique?  I  have  been  looking  for 

[167] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


her  everywhere.  They  told  me  she  was  with  you  in 
the  women's  apartments.  I  went  there,  but  I  did  not 
find  her.  Where  is  she?" 

"Chen  threw  his  wife  a  glance  of  helpless  anxiety 
and  apprehension,  and  said:  "Why,  where  can  she 
be?" 

"Just  a  moment,"  continued  Ming-ni.  "I  will  take 
advantage  of  her  absence  to  say  a  word  to  you  about 
her.  When  I  went  away,  she  was  not  on  good  terms 
with  any  of  you  here.  When  I  got  back,  I  heard  al- 
most the  first  thing  that  the  irritation  of  the  household 
against  her  had  grown.  I  am  afraid  that  none  of  you 
understand  her  very  well,  and  that  she  does  not  quite 
know  how  to  win  your  affection." 

The  First  Wife  immediately  assumed  such  a  cold 
and  forbidding  expression  that  Chen,  who  was  open- 
ing his  mouth  to  protest,  shut  it  again  forthwith,  yield- 
ing to  a  discretion  blameworthy,  perhaps,  but  cer- 
tainly strategic. 

"I  would  never  dream  of  criticizing  your  attitude 
toward  her,"  Ming-ni  went  on  blandly,  saying  the  ex- 
act opposite  of  what  he  meant  in  order  to  make  it 
more  emphatic. 

"I  should  hope  so!"  snapped  the  First  Wife  from 
between  pinched  lips. 

"Still,"  her  son  went  on  with  outrageous  tem- 
erity, "I  noticed  several  times,  before  I  went  away, 
that  you  seemed  a  trifle  unsympathetic  in  your  treat- 
ment of  her.  You  showed  her  no  tenderness,  no  soft- 

[168] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ness,  as  you  so  well  know  how  to  do  with  other  women 
of  the  household." 

"Did  you  expect  me  to  be  running  after  her  all 
day  long?"  asked  his  mother  sarcastically.  "  'My  lit- 
tle darling'  here;  'my  sweet  flower'  there!  When  a 
girl  ignores  common  courtesy  and  the  rites  as  she 
does,  she  can  hardly  expect  much  from  her  mother- 
in-law." 

"But,  mother!  I  assure  you  she  is  very  polite,  ac- 
cording to  the  Western  idea." 

"A  nice  idea!"  sneered  the  First  Wife.  She  gave 
a  grotesque  imitation  of  a  hand-shake  and  the  foreign 
greeting.  '  'Goo-dee  Mo-ling'!  And  you  say  that 
is  >a  proper  greeting?  No!  Say  what  you  like,  when 
a  woman  does  not  know  the  rites,  she  is  without  the 
moral  self-control  to  behave  herself  decently.  But 
all  this  is  nothing.  It  pleased  you  to  bring  back 
from  those  barbarous  places  a  little  servant;  she  af- 
forded you  a  few  days'  pleasure.  That  is  all  that  is 
required  of  her." 

"You  must  excuse  me,  mother,  I — " 

"Yes,  it  is  as  I  say,"  she  insisted,  not  letting  him 
answer.  "A  concubine  comes  into  the  house.  Pres- 
ently she  is  sold  again,  or  turned  over  to  a  friend. 
It  is  of  no  consequence.  The  only  thing  that  is  really 
grave  and  serious  is  marriage,  the  union  of  two  fam- 
ilies— the  First  Wife!  Is  it  not  so,  0  Master?"  she 
demanded  of  Chen. 

"Assuredly,"  he  answered. 
[169] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"But  Monique  is  my  First  Wife!"  exclaimed 
Ming-ni. 

"That  woman?  Your  First  Wife?  You  jest. 
Do  we  know  this  woman's  family?  Have  we  ex- 
changed with  them  the  billets  of  the  eight  ideograms? 
And  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  inform  me  when 
the  honourabe  witnesses  lifted  the  nuptial  veil  in  our 
presence?  You  are  not  married  to  her  at  all!  And 
the  best  proof,"  added  the  old  lady,  incensed  beyond 
self-control,  "is  that  you  are  going  to  be  married  this 
very  night." 

"I?"  asked  Ming-ni,  dazed. 

"Yes,  you!  Is  it  not  so,  0  Master?"  Again  she 
was  appealing  to  Chen. 

"This  reception  is  indeed  for  your  wedding,"  an- 
swered the  old  man,  not  without  a  trace  of  embarrass- 
ment. 

"Oh!"  cried  Ming-ni  then.  "But  you  know  very 
well  that  I  am  already  married  to  Monique. — And 
now  I  want  to  know  where  she  is. — Ah!  I  begin  to  un- 
derstand why  she  is  not  here,"  he  added,  with  sud- 
den agitation.  "You  have  locked  her  into  some  dis- 
tant room.  Where  is  she?  I  must  know  at  once." 

"Be  silent!"  thundered  Chen  suddenly,  shocked 
and  affronted  by  the  independent  tone  and  defiant 
bearing  of  his  son.  "Have  you  forgotten  the  rites? 
You  have  no  business  to  express  any  desire  of  your 
own  or  assert  your  will  in  my  presence.  Here,  I 
alone  have  the  right  to  will  or  not  to  will." 

[170] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Splendid!"  applauded  the  First  Wife.  "Now 
you  speak  like  the  real  head  of  the  family." 

"I  pray  you,  0  Father,"  said  Ming-ni,  instantly 
regaining  his  self-control,  "tell  me  where  you  have 
put  her?" 

"I  have  not  put  her  anywhere,  I  assure  you,"  an- 
swered Chen  diplomatically.  He  had,  nevertheless, 
some  private  suspicions  of  his  own  as  to  what  the 
First  Wife  might  have  done  on  her  own  responsibility. 

"Just  the  same,"  said  the  old  lady,  "she  deserves  to 
be  locked  up  somewhere.  As  it  happens,  we  shall 
have  to  find  her,  because  she  has  got  to  appear  soon 
and  answer  for  herself." 

"Appear?  Answer  for  herself?  Before  whom? 
Why?  0  Father,  I  pray  you — if  you  don't  speak 
frankly,  I  shall  be  unable  to  control  myself.  I  shall 
forget  the  rites." 

"Wretched  boy!"  said  Chen  authoritatively,  "am 
I  to  pass  sentence  on  you,  too? — As  for  Monique," 
he  went  on  more  gently,  "this  is  what  has  happened : 
the  steward  who  accompanied  the  presents  sent  to 
your  new  bride  saw  Monique  alone  with  the  foreigner 
Mackensie." 

"Oh,  is  that  all?"  said  Ming-ni,  relieved.  "You 
must  remember,  father,  that  foreign  usage  sanctions 
that.  It  is  nothing.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  give 
the  steward  a  few  ounces  of  silver  in  order  to  keep 
his  mouth  shut." 

"So?"  answered  the  First  Wife,  taking  a  malignant 
[171] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


satisfaction.  "It  happens  that  he  has  already  con- 
fided his  discovery  to  the  rest  of  the  servants  and  the 
whole  city." 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Ming-ni,  understanding  at 
last.  "What  a  trouble  has  come  upon  us!  This  is 
terrible!  What  can  be  done  to  stop  the  scandal?" 

"You  see,  I  hope,  that  we  had  no  choice  but  to  act," 
said  his  father.  "If  we  failed  to  punish  her,  we 
should  be  reported  as  indulging  immorality  and  set- 
ting a  bad  example  to  the  lower  classes.  It  would 
mean  the  ruin  of  the  family." 

"Whatever  comes,"  said  Ming-ni  with  sudden  fury, 
"that  steward  shall  die  under  the  bamboo  sticks. — I 
will  go  and  hunt  for  Monique.  We  start  for  Europe 
tonight.  I  can  live  in  this  nightmare  of  a  country 
no  longer."  He  strode  toward  the  door. 

But  his  father's  voice  stopped  him.  "I  forbid  you 
to  leave  this  room.  Again  I  assure  you  that  we  have 
made  as  yet  no  final  decision  about  her.  Do  not  be 
anxious.  But  you  are  to  stay  here.  In  a  few  min- 
utes the  guests  will  come,  and  it  is  absolutely  imper- 
ative— imperative,  do  you  hear? — that  you,  the 
bridegroom,  be  here  to  receive  them." 

"Bridegroom!"  his  son  burst  out  savagely.  "I 
don't  even  know  who  this  bride  is,  to  whom  you  are 
giving  me,  and  I  won't  accept  her." 

"Those  barbarian  countries  have  completely 
spoiled  you,"  said  his  mother  bitterly.  "The  most 

[172] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


elementary  and  sacred  decencies  of  life  seem  to  have 
become  an  insupportable  burden  to  you.  Oh,  how 
rightly  they  are  called  'devils,'  these  accursed  foreign- 
ers who  come  even  here  to  vex  our  happy  and  peace- 
ful life!" 

"There,  there,  my  dear,"  said  Chen  soothingly, 
"let  us  follow  the  Doctrine  of  the  Middle  Course,  so 
urgently  recommended  by  the  Sage,  and  not  go  to  ex- 
cess." Then,  turning  to  his  son:  "Whatever  hap- 
pens, I  trust  you  not  to  bring  shame  upon  my  white 
hair,  and  to  conduct  yourself  as  a  dignitary  of  your 
rank  must  do.  Think  of  your  own  future,  if  you 
were  to  be  the  subject  of  any  scandal!  And  think  of 
our  Ancestors!" 

"You  assure  me  that  Monique  is  not  being  confined 
or  otherwise  mistreated?"  asked  Ming-ni  again,  facing 
his  mother. 

"I  tell  you  that  we  have  done  nothing  to  her," 
she  reiterated  doggedly. 

"We  will  never  lift  a  finger  against  her  without 
warning  you,"  added  Chen.  "Anyway,  my  boy,  let 
me  remind  you  that  you  are  being  somewhat  ridicu- 
lous to  make  such  a  fuss  over  any  woman  that  ever 
breathed.  If  I  had  stirred  up  such  a  scene  every 
time  I  had  to  part  with  a  girl — ! — For  my  part, 
wouldn't  I  like  to  be  in  your  place,  you  lucky  dog! 
Your  new  turtle-dove  is  ravishing.  She  has  eyes — !" 
— he  audibly  smacked  his  lips — "and  a  mouth!" 

[173] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


—And  ears,  and  a  nose!"  added  the  First  Wife 
sarcastically.  "And  legs  and  arms,  too,  I  hope. 
Men — faugh!  I  am  going  away." 

Just  as  she  was  turning  to  go,  a  servant  entered  the 
room.  "The  Chief  of  Police,"  he  announced. 

"Show  him  in,"  answered  the  old  lady.  "We  will 
see  him  at  once." 

The  Redoubtable  Hunter  of  Criminals  (to  give  him 
his  official  title)  entered,  with  a  mixture  of  pride  in 
the  importance  of  his  function  and  humility  before 
the  exalted  personages  who  had  summoned  him.  He 
was  dressed  in  a  dark  blue  coat  made  of  cotton,  tied 
at  the  waist  with  a  scarf.  On  his  breast  were  em- 
broidered in  scarlet  thread  the  words  "Pursue  and 
Seize."  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  heavy  bludgeon, 
with  which  he  was  expected  to  stun  those  who  tried  to 
resist  arrest.  He  wore  a  short  grey  moustache,  very 
stiff  and  bristly.  A  blue  turban  enveloped  his  head, 
hiding  his  ears,  of  which  one,  it  may  as  well  be  dis- 
closed, had  been  cut  off  as  a  punishment  for  his  once 
having  exceeded  his  authority.  This  man  was  a  re- 
spected functionary,  for  his  duties  comprised  those 
usually  distributed,  in  Europe,  among  the  Attorney- 
General,  the  examining  magistrate,  and  the  criminal 
courts.  Such  an  agent  must  be  letter-perfect  in  his 
knowledge  of  the  text  of  the  laws. 

The  Chief  made  a  deep  curtsey  to  Chen,  but  with- 
out kneeling.  "Ten  thousand  felicitations,  0  Great 
Man!"  he  said. 

[174] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Peace  and  happiness  be  with  you.  0  Chief  of 
Justice!" 

"I  respectfully  salute  the  Great  Nurse  and  the  Hon- 
orable Young  Lord." 

"Ten  thousand  felicities!"  answered  Ming-ni  and 
his  mother  together. 

The  functionary  came  to  the  point  at  once.  "The 
Great  Man  has  sent  for  me,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Chen,  trying  to  be  casual.  "On  a  mat- 
ter of  no  particular  consequence. — You!"  he  bel- 
lowed at  the  servants,  who  had  swarmed  about  every 
entrance  in  order  to  see  what  was  going  on.  "Go 
away,  or  I  will  have  every  last  one  of  you  whipped!" 
When  they  were  alone,  he  resumed :  "Yes — a  rather 
trifling  matter.  A  barbarian  woman  whom  my  son 
brought  back  from  Europe  was  seen  by  the  Palace 
steward — where  is  the  rascal,  by  the  way?  Come 
here!" 

A  servant  appeared  with  a  celerity  which  suggested 
that  he  had  been  not  far  off,  and  that  he  was  making 
good  use  of  his  ears.  "Tell  the  steward  to  come  here 
at  once,"  ordered  Chen.  "That  is  all."  The  man 
went  off  at  a  run,  and  Chen  continued :  " — was  seen 
by  the  Palace  steward  in  the  house  of  my  son's  new 
bride." 

"Ah!"  commented  the  Chief  of  Police  simply. 

"Yes.     She  was  seen.     She  was  not  alone." 

"Ah!"  commented  the  other  once  more. 

"No.  She  was  talking  with  a  certain  friend  of 
[175] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ours — one  of  her  own  countrymen.  You  know  him, 
perhaps — the  Great  Man  Mackensie?" 

"Now  that  the  facts  have  been  set  forth,"  answered 
the  official  guardedly,  "I  recall  that  a  report  on  it  had 
just  been  put  before  me  when  the  messenger  from  the 
Palace  entered.  I  knew  that  I  should  be  in  request," 
he  added  with  a  bow. 

The  First  Wife  darted  a  significant  glance  at  her 
son. 

"And  I  perceive,"  the  officer  went  on,  "that  you 
have  called  me  to  participate  in  the  judgment  by  the 
family,  as  public  morality  requires.  It  is  a  most 
simple  case.  The  adultery  was  public.  Article  368 
of  the  law,  concerning  'Unlawful  Relations',  provides 
that  both  accomplices  shall  be  beheaded." 

"Never!  Never!"  cried  Ming-ni  explosively. 
"The  adultery  is  not  in  the  least  proved.  The  whole 
thing  is  absurd." 

"Indeed,  Excellency,"  assented  the  Chief  with  a 
bow,  "my  report  does  not  mention  that  the  adultery  is 
proved." 

"Not  proved?"  asked  the  First  Wife  stormily. 
"You  know  very  well  that  the  fact  of  a  public  rumour 
is  proof  in  such  a  case.  It  is  the  scandal  which  is 
punished.  The  facts  are  neither  here  nor  there." 

"Precisely  my  view,  0  Creat  Nurse,"  declared  the 
Hunter  of  Criminals,  with  another  bow.  "We  have 
no  right  whatever  to  judge  anybody.  We  punish  the 
scandal  in  order  to  maintain  our  country's  present 

[176] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


high  standard  of  morality.  A  woman  about  whom 
there  has  been  a  public  rumour  must  die.  That  is 
the  only  way  to  purify  the  community  and  make 
everybody  avoid  even  the  appearance  of  evil." 

"But  suppose  my  wife  had  acted  on  my  instruc- 
tions?" asked  Ming-ni,  "or  in  consideration  of  a 
higher  interest?" 

"In  that  event,  Excellency,  there  would  be  no 
fault." 

"Why  are  you  talking  about  'instructions'  and 
'higher  interests'?"  asked  the  First  Wife,  shrugging 
her  shoulders  scornfully.  "You  were  a  hundred 
leagues  away." 

"All  this  is  very  well,  but  it  is  not  at  all  to  the 
point,"  interposed  Chen.  "It  is  the  scandal  alone 
which  demands  our  notice.  The  city  gossips  are  al- 
ready busy  over  this  story.  For  the  sake  of  public 
morality,  they  must  promptly  learn  that  the  proper 
punishment  has  been  meted  out,  whether  there  is  ac- 
tual culpability  or  not." 

"The  Great  Man  sees  the  problem  in  exactly  the 
right  light,  and  the  lofty  disinterestedness  of  his 
views  is  admirable,"  decreed  the  Chief  of  Police. 

Just  then  the  steward  came  in,  very  much  wrought 
up  and  repenting  bitterly  of  having  taken  what  he 
had  supposed  at  the  time  was  a  most  cunning  way  to 
ingratiate  himself  with  the  First  Wife,  to  his  own 
subsequent  profit. 

Ming-ni  rushed  at  him,  gripped  his  arm,  and  sent 
[177] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


him  reeling  about  by  jabbing  him  viciously  in  the 
loins  with  his  knees.  "Aha,  you!"  he  shouted  furi- 
ously. "Let  me  at  him!  This  is  the  real  villain. 
Come  here,  you  cur!"  And  he  kicked  the  fellow's 
shins.  "Get  down  on  your  knees  before  your  bet- 
ters, you  miserable  scandal-monger!  I  will  have 
your  guts  ripped  out  and  your  limbs  cut  into  bits, 
you  dog. — Now  tell  us  what  it  was  you  saw." 

"I  saw — nothing,  nothing  at  all!"  moaned  the  fel- 
low piteously,  quaking  like  a  leaf  in  a  storm. 

"What!  You  saw  nothing?"  screamed  the  First 
Wife.  "Have  them  bring  the  bamboo  sticks  directly, 
and  let  that  dog  be  slowly  beaten  to  death.  That 
will  teach  him  to  lie — and  the  others,  too!" 

The  servants  who  had  gathered  about  widened  their 
circle.  One,  utterly  terror-stricken,  slipped  dis- 
creetly away,  went  out  of  the  Palace,  and  was  never 
seen  again. 

"Have  mercy,  0  Mistress!  Take  pity!"  cried  the 
unlucky  steward,  perceiving  that  he  was  caught  be- 
tween two  mill-stones.  He  did  not  know  whether 
it  were  safer  for  him  to  lie  in  the  one  direction  or  in 
the  other,  or,  perchance,  to  tell  the  truth. 

"Then  tell  me  instantly  what  you  saw." 

"Having  received  from  the  Master,"  he  began  halt- 
ingly, "instructions  to  accompany  the  distinguished 
presents  to  the  honourable  house  of  the  virtuous  and 
sage  bride — " 

[178] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Hurry  up;  get  on  with  it,"  interrupted  Chen 
curtly. 

' — I  gave  the  presents  into  the  keeping  of  the 
Venerable  Uncle  Wang,"  the  steward  ended  in 
panic. 

"You  hear?"  said  Ming-ni  triumphantly.  "He 
saw  nothing  whatever.  It  was  all  a  put-up  story." 

"Just  a  minute,  just  a  minute,"  commanded  Chen 
importantly.  "It  is  I  who  give  orders  here,  and  I 
who  judge."  Walking  to  the  prostrate  and  cowering 
body  of  the  steward,  he  refreshed  the  fellow's  memory 
with  a  violent  jolt  in  the  face,  given  with  his  knee. 
"Now  speak,  and  speak  straight!"  he  said  sharply. 
"Give  us  the  facts,  and  without  wasting  a  syllable.  If 
we  don't  get  it  out  of  you  this  minute,  the  Chief  of 
Police  is  going  to  take  you  away  and  tear  out  your 
tongue  and  cut  off  your  nose,  by  way  of  punishment 
for  your  slanders." 

"Libel,  as  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  the  Chief  suc- 
cinctly, "is  punishable  by  doubling  the  penalty  to 
which  the  falsely  accused  innocent  would  have  been 
sentenced.  Article  336,  on  'False  and  Malignant  Ac- 
cusations'. Torture,  with  lingering  death." 

"I  don't  know  anything  more!"  moaned  the  poor 
steward,  scared  out  of  his  wits.  "I  have  forgotten 
everything.  I  had  rather  die  than  be  beaten." 

"Will  you  answer — yes  or  no?"  said  Chen  sav- 
agely. 

[179] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"I — I  did — ,"  spluttered  the  steward. 

"You  did  what?" 

"I— I  don't  know." 

"Bring  the  pincers,"  roared  the  Chief  of  Police  to 
one  of  his  men,  "and  tear  off  his  nose." 

"I  will!  I  will  speak!  I  remember  now,"  said 
the  steward  hastily.  "I  saw  the  foreign  woman 
speaking  to  the  barbarian  who  lives  in  the  temple. 
They  were  together  in  the  Central  Hall  of  the  Lord 
Wang's  Palace." 

"There  was  nobody  with  them?"  demanded  the 
Chief  of  Police. 

"Nobody." 

"In  that  case,  an  example  must  be  made." 

"Indeed!"  said  Ming-ni,  white  with  rage.  "Have 
the  kindness  to  take  away  this  dog  that  bites  his  mas- 
ter's hand,  and  see  that  he  is  exposed  in  a  cage  on  the 
public  square  until  he  dies  of  starvation." 

"Very  well,  Excellency,"  agreed  the  Hunter  of 
Criminals.  "The  slave  who  denounces  his  master  is 
indeed  liable  to  be  sentenced  to  a  lingering  death. 
Article  337,  on  'Accusations  Against  one's  own  Fam- 
ily'." 

"Have  pity!  0  Lord  and  Master,  0  Great  Nurse, 
have  mercy!"  The  wretched  steward's  voice  rose  to 
a  screech.  "I  have  always  been  a  faithful  servant! 
Only  let  me  be  beheaded  or  strangled — but  not  the 
lingering  death,  not — " 

"No  mercy!     He  had  none  for  my  wife,"   an- 
[180] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


swered  Ming-ni  in  a  voice  hard  as  flint.  "I  would 
not  grant  you  mercy  if  I  had  to  burn  the  whole  city 
down  to  have  you  tortured." 

"There,  there — enough,"  said  Chen.  "Your  anger 
shall  be  appeased.  They  shall  take  him  away.  He 
shall  be  carved  into  thin  slices  if  you  like,  and  every- 
thing shall  be  made  right.  Is  it  not  so,  Redoubtable 
Hunter?" 

"Your  orders  shall  be  carried  out,  0  Great  Man. 
Hola,  you!  Come  here!  Put  that  carrion  in  chains 
and  take  it  away  to  prison.  Tomorrow  at  daylight  he 
shall  be  carved  into  a  hundred  pieces." 

His  minions  rushed  at  the  steward  as  a  man-eating 
tiger  springs  on  its  prey.  In  >a  trice  they  had  chained 
him  and  shoved  him  out,  kicking  and  belabouring  him 
the  while.  The  screams  of  the  victim  ululated 
through  the  tranquil  night,  rendering  it  hideous. 

Chen  turned  to  the  Chief.  "It  is  all  clear  now? 
Whatever  may  be  the  terms  of  my  sentence  upon  the 
woman,  and  whatever  sequel  may  follow,  the  law  has 
been  respected,  as  is  attested  by  your  presence  at  the 
judgment.  You  will  incorporate  this  fact  in  your 
report?" 

"I  will,  Excellency.  Everything  has  been  done 
most  correctly.  Ten  thousand  congratulations." 
He  turned  away  with  dignity,  though  he  had  received 
from  Ming-ni  only  a  contemptuous  bow  and  from  the 
old  lady  a  slight  nod. 

"Now  that  everything  is  finished,"  said  Chen,  heav- 
[181] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon' 


ing  a  sigh  of  relief,  "let  us  welcome  our  guests  and 
make  merry." 

"My  poor  Monique!"  mused  Ming-ni  desperately. 
"Unless  I  can  find  some  way  of  saving  you,  you  are 
indeed  lost." 

"My  poor  boy!"  said  the  old  man,  putting  his  hand 
affectionately  on  his  son's  shoulder,  "don't  take  this 
little  accident  so  to  heart!  We  are  not  responsible 
for  our  destiny:  well,  then,  let  us  rise  above  it  by 
acknowledging  only  the  good  and  never  minding 
about  the  evil.  Besides,"  he  added,  "your  sorrow  is 
preposterously  exaggerated.  I  will  find  you  ten 
women  prettier  than  this  Monique  of  yours,  and  if 
you  want  barbarian  women,  why,  we  can  have  two  or 
three  sent  to  you.  Believe  me,  the  secret  of  happi- 
ness lies  not  in  giving  oneself  to  a  woman  or  any 
other  toy,  as  a  slave  sells  his  body  to  a  master." 

"You  can  say  that  because  you  have  never  loved." 

"Never  loved!"  said  Chen.  "Why,  what  else  have 
I  been  doing  all  my  life?" 

"Just  so:  you  have  never  loved." 

"You  are  both  simply  absurd,"  said  the  First  Wife 
tartly.  "I  am  going  to  the  women's  apartments  to 
receive  our  guests'  wives  and  daughters.  And  now, 
my  son,  in  honour  of  your  marriage,  and  if  you  prom- 
ise me  to  behave  tonight  as  a  dignitary  of  your  rank 
ought,  I  promise  on  my  part  to  leave  Monique  at 
liberty  until  tomorrow  morning,  and  to  do  nothing 
against  her  without  first  apprising  you." 

[182] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"But  what  if  she  should  have  killed  herself  today? 
I  cannot  bear  the  suspense.  I  must  know  where  she 
is." 

"Your  duty  must  come  before  your  feeling,"  said 
Chen  severely.  "When  the  ceremony  is  over,  I  will 
help  you  find  the  creature.  But  I  forbid  you,  in  the 
name  of  our  family's  honour,  in  the  name  of  your 
brothers,  and  in  the  name  of  your  sons-to-be,  to  do 
anything  which  could  impair  our  reputation  or  en- 
danger the  standing  of  the  family." 


[183] 


XV 


CHEN  kept  on  explaining  to  his  son  how  ex- 
tremely improper  it  would  be  for  him,  as  a  func- 
tionary, not  to  be  present  at  his  own  wedding,  and 
how  impossible  such  a  solecism  would  be  to  hide  or 
to  palliate.  Ming-ni  listened  sullenly,  enraged  at 
being  compelled  to  let  himself  be  married  to  another 
while  his  own  wife  was  lost  and  nowhere  to  be  found. 
He  considered  all  sorts  of  plans  to  save  her,  but  with- 
out hitting  on  any  that  seemed  practicable.  At  one 
moment  he  resolved  simply  to  run  away  with  her;  but 
at  the  next,  when  he  weighed  the  certainty  of  pursuit, 
he  gave  this  over  for  some  other  equally  wild  scheme. 
He  speculated  about  the  possibility  of  finding  a 
woman  who  would  consent  to  die  in  Monique's  stead, 
but  this  also  he  abandoned  hopelessly.  A  man  is 
sometimes  found  who,  for  a  sum  sufficient  to  ensure 
the  future  comfort  of  his  wife  and  children,  will  take 
the  place  of  a  condemned  criminal.  In  certain  cases 
the  law  authorizes  this  substitution.  But  it  is  not 
recorded  that  any  woman  has  ever  consented  to  the 
playing  of  so  disinterested  a  role. 

He  was  still  deliberating,  hardly  listening  to  the 
sensible  advice  of  his  father,  when  old  Wang,  gaunt 

[184] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


and  tall  as  ever,  appeared  in  his  formal  robes,  hur- 
rying in  order  to  receive  the  guests  simultaneously 
with  the  father  of  his  new  son-in-law.  Ming-ni,  in 
spite  of  his  trouble  and  preoccupation,  noticed  him 
sufficiently  to  be  startled  by  his  arriving  through  the 
back  door  and  so  early.  He  said  as  much  to  his 
father. 

"But  he  is  not  a  guest  tonight,"  answered  Chen. 

"Not  a  guest?     How  is  that?" 

"Why,  of  course  he  isn't.  He  is  your  father-in- 
law." 

Before  Ming-ni  had  had  time  to  take  this  in,  his 
fat  and  amiable  father  had  stepped  forward  to  meet 
his  old  friend.  "No  hurry,"  he  said.  "We  are  not 
behind-hand.  The  guests  have  not  come  yet." 
Then,  noticing  that  his  son  had  made  no  movement, 
he  said  to  him  in  a  low  but  threatening  voice:  "Are 
you  mad?  Get  down  instantly  in  front  of  your  fa- 
ther-in-law." 

Disciplined  since  his  childhood  to  rigid  observance 
of  the  rites,  Ming-ni  knelt  almost  automatically  be- 
fore the  old  gardener.  "I  touch  my  forehead  to  the 
ground  thrice  three  times  before  the  father  of  my 
new  wife." 

Wang  immediately  helped  him  rise,  saying:  "No, 
no!  No  rites:  we  are  now  one  household." 

"Well,  my  friend,"  remarked  Chen  genially,  "I 
hope  that  we  are  going  to  empty  a  good  many  cups 
of  the  lukewarm  wine,  and  compose  at  least  a  few 

[185] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


immortal  lyrics.  I  have  already  sketched  out  an  im- 
promptu subject  or  two." 

"And  I,"  responded  the  gardener,  "I,  too,  feel  in 
my  head  the  bubbling-up  of  poetic  inspiration. 
Flowers,  the  moon,  willows  tenderly  leaning  toward 
each  other  and  mingling  their  leaves,  the  rushes  sway- 
ing and  murmuring  to  the  evening  zephyr,  the  birds 
Yn  and  Yang,  which  die  when  separated,  the  phoenix 
and  the  dragon — all  such  images  whirl  together  in  my 
head  before  taking  their  flight  in  stanzas  which  crave 
perfection." 

"Ah,  my  friend  Wang,  you  are  a  true  poet!"  sighed 
Chen  admiringly  and  with  an  artless  envy.  "Poetry 
and  mellow  wine  are  a  man's  greatest  joys  under  the 
sky." 

"The  intoxication  of  the  mind  is  best  of  all,"  said 
Wang  somewhat  sententiously. 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  considerable  din.  A 
sedan-chair,  escorted  by  numerous  bustling  and 
shouting  servants  with  lanterns,  crossed  the  raised 
portal  and  entered  the  courtyard.  A  chrai-kuxm  ar- 
rived, holding  aloft  a  red  calling-card  and  bellowing: 
"The  Great  Man  Ping!" 

"May  he  deign  to  enter,"  replied  the  host's  chrai- 
kwan. 

From  the  sedan-chair,  now  deposited  near  the  three 
steps  leading  to  the  entrance,  emerged  a  man  dressed 
in  the  blue  silk  gown  of  a  scholar.  "Ten  thousand 
wishes  of  happiness!"  he  said,  bending  one  knee  in  a 

[186] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


curtsey,  "and  as  many  congratulations  to  the  bride- 
groom's father,  to  the  honourable  father  of  the  bride, 
and  to  the  bridegroom  himself." 

The  three  hosts  descended  the  steps  and  dropped 
curtseys  in  return. 

"Lord  Wang,"  said  the  newcomer,  "I  am  happy  to 
be  the  first  to  announce  to  you  a  great  new  honour  of 
which  you  are  the  recipient." 

"What  honour  is  that?"  asked  the  three  hosts  to- 
gether. 

"The  Governor  of  the  City  has  just  had  ten  of  your 
best  poems  posted  on  the  walls.  Already  the  schol- 
ars are  gathering  round  to  copy  the  verses  on  their 
fans." 

"Ah!  How  undeserved!"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
intensely  gratified. 

"What  an  honour  for  us  all!"  said  Chen,  taking  the 
occurrence  as  if  indeed  he  felt  himself  honoured  by 
it.  There  was  a  buzz  of  compliments.  Then  Ping 
turned  to  Ming-ni  to  ask:  "In  the  Far  West  have 
they  any  notion  of  literature?  Does  the  Government 
there  post  the  works  of  the  great  poets  on  the  walls?" 

"No.  But  they  print,  and  post  everywhere,  the 
best  speeches  on  political  subjects  delivered  in  a  hall 
reserved  for  that  use." 

"Well,  that  is  literature,  too,"  admitted  Ping. 
"Very  inferior  to  poetry,  of  course,  but  still  liter- 
ature. Those  red-haired  savages  are  not  so  illiterate 
as  some  say.  Perhaps,  little  by  little,  they  will  be 

[187] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


taught  what  civilization  is  by  the  agents  our  Govern- 
ment is  now  sending  among  them.  Yours  is  really  a 
most  humanitarian  task,  0  Lord  Minister  Plenipo- 
tentiary. To  live  in  the  midst  of  wild  tribes  in  order 
to  elevate  them  to  higher  standards  of  civilization; 
to  share  with  them  the  fruits  of  our  own  richer  ex- 
perience of  the  social  life — it  is  indeed  an  admirable 
task." 

The  arrival  of  several  new  guests  interrupted  the 
flow  of  compliments — which  had  not  for  an  instant 
prevented  Ming-ni's  thoughts  from  dwelling  on  Mon- 
ique.  There  ensued  a  brisk  interchange  of  curtseys 
and  greetings,  each  of  the  guests  deeming  it  impera- 
tive to  use  to  the  utmost  extent  so  rare  an  occasion  for 
displaying  his  familiarity  with  complicated  social 
usages  and  his  consummate  understanding  of  the 
situation. 

The  Governor  of  the  City  arrived  last  of  all,  as  be- 
fitted his  rank.  All  the  guests  fell  into  two  ranks 
and  made  a  profound  curtsey  as  he  passed  between, 
after  having  answered  the  greetings  of  the  three  hosts. 
He  balanced  his  arms  and  shoulders  meticulously  as 
he  walked,  smiling  at  this  one,  addressing  a  compli- 
ment to  that,  carefully  and  tactfully  distributing  his 
official  politeness. 

Near  the  place  of  honour,  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall, 
began  <a  new  contest  of  courtesy.  "Your  presence  il- 
luminates my  thatched  hovel,"  said  Chen.  "Pray  be 
seated." 

[188] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"My  personal  reputation  is  enhanced  by  my  being 
received  in  your  Palace,"  answered  the  Governor. 

"Be  pleased  to  sit  by  the  places  reserved  for  the 
young  couple,  0  Protector  of  the  City." 

"But  how  could  I  sit  there,  when  all  these  lords 
are  an  hundred  times  worthier  than  I?" 

"The  insignificant  ones  are  without  any  merit  what- 
soever," murmured  the  flattered  guests. 

Eventually  some  one  had  to  sit  down.  The  strug- 
gle having  lasted  long  enough,  the  Governor  lapsed 
into  the  armchair  indicated;  but  he  did  it  as  if  over- 
whelmed with  humility.  Then,  carefully  disposing 
his  multi-coloured  robes,  he  put  his  hands  on  his  knees 
and  heaved  a  sigh  of  contentment. 

"The  Protector  of  the  City  has  conferred  a  great 
honour  on  our  family,"  said  Chen,  "and  the  posting 
of  our  honourable  friend  Wang's  poems  on  this  day  is 
a  glorious  seal  of  distinction  upon  his  talents." 

"Say,  rather,  his  genius  is  the  glory  of  our  city," 
replied  the  Governor  with  gravity.  "We  must  ever 
venerate  those  who  are  inspired.  They  see  that  to 
which  we  are  blind,  and  guide  us  aright  on  the  dif- 
ficult way  to  justice,  to  perfect  civilization.  The  in- 
fluence of  the  Lord  Wang's  genius  inspires  in  the 
people  their  highest  aspirations;  and  thus  their  minds 
are  turned  from  lower  material  things  toward  the 
heavenly,  the  eternal." 

A  silence  ensued,  as  if  everybody  were  absorbedly 
mastering  the  sentiment  expressed  in  these  words. 

[189] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Then  Chen  tried  another  gambit:  "Are  the  public  af- 
fairs numerous  and  exacting?" 

"There  is  nothing  tremendously  important  just 
now.  Public  morality  seems  to  be  eminently  satis- 
factory at  this  moment.  Earlier  in  the  week,  we  had 
to  strangle  a  petty  trader.  He  deceived  his  customers 
as  to  the  quality  of  his  goods,  in  order  to  obtain  a 
higher  price  than  the  ordinary  valuation." 

Ming-ni  could  not  help  thinking  of  Europe,  and 
asking  himself  how  many  traders  there  would  be  left 
alive  if  such  treatment  were  meted  out  to  all  the 
Western  merchants  who  committed  the  same  offence. 

"Speaking  of  morality,"  said  Ping  in  a  low  voice 
to  his  immediate  neighbour,  "it  appears  that  the  for- 
eign woman  who  was  brought  here  by  the  bridegroom 
has  just  been  detected  in  commerce  with  the  barbarian 
of  the  temple.  They  will  have  her  unobtrusively 
strangled,  I  take  it." 

"So  it  is  to  be  hoped.  The  woman's  conduct  was 
flagrant.  Why,  our  own  wives  are  already  playing 
with  the  idea  of  imitating  her  and  going  about  alone 
on  foot,  unveiled." 

"It  is  precisely  in  that  way  that  morality  and  wise 
social  usages  'are  lost.  It  is  easier  to  go  downhill 
than  up.  One  bad  example  destroys  the  plodding 
progress  of  years." 

"What  luck  for  the  bride!"  said  Ping's  neighbour 
meaningly. 

At  that  moment  was  heard  a  noise,  at  first  indistinct, 
[190] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


but  waxing  as  it  approached.  Suddenly,  from  the 
outermost  courtyard,  sounded  the  melody  of  the  Wed- 
ding March.  The  guests  rose  to  their  feet,  saying: 
"The  sedan-chair!  The  sedan-chair!"  Almost  at 
once  the  bridal  procession  began  to  appear,  mingling 
its  own  music  with  that  of  the  Palace  musicians,  bal- 
ancing its  numerous  red  lanterns  aloft,  and  filling  the 
great  courtyard  with  extraordinary  noise  and  gaiety. 
All  the  guests  chorused  their  welcome,  with  cries  of 
"Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  felicities  to  the 
new  bride!"  "May  the  Star  of  Fortune  shine  on  her 
house!"  "May  the  scented  breezes  of  Spring  blow 
for  ever  in  her  abode!"  "And  may  the  moonlight 
shine  upon  them  for  ever!" 

Suddenly  a  series  of  loud  explosions  set  the  air 
vibrating.  Fire-crackers  of  every  sort  and  size  were 
touched  off  simultaneously,  producing  such  a  thunder 
that  all  those  evil  spirits  who  lurk  in  darkness  and 
silence  must  assuredly  have  been  put  to  rout  and 
driven  a  thousand  miles  away. 

The  shouting  porters  deposited  the  heavy  red  sedan- 
chair  in  front  of  the  marble  steps.  By  the  back  door 
of  the  Hall  the  First  Wife  appeared,  making  quick 
little  bows  to  her  guests,  dropping  a  curtsey  to  the 
Governor.  She  had  to  be  present  >at  the  ceremony  in 
order  to  attest  the  validity  of  the  marriage.  Chen 
strode  pompously  down  the  steps,  followed  by  his  son, 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  sedan-chair;  then  he 
stopped  and,  turning  toward  the  assembled  witnesses, 

[191] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


said  solemnly:  "0  Sage  Scholars,  0  Noble  Old  Men, 
0  You  my  Elders,  0  You  Powerful  Governor  of  the 
City:  be  our  witnesses.  Today  in  the  hour  of  the 
Dragon,  in  this  auspicious  day  of  the  Acacias'  moon, 
in  the  year  of  the  Cock,  the  New  Bride  crosses  the 
threshold  of  her  new  abode." 

"We  are  your  witnesses.  The  wedding  is  being 
consummated.  May  joy  reign  in  this  house,"  said 
the  Governor.  "May  their  happiness  endure  for 
ever!"  echoed  the  guests. 

A  feminine  figure,  covered  from  head  to  foot  by  the 
red  veil  worn  by  brides,  stepped  from  the  sedan- 
chair. 

Ming-ni,  despite  his  anxiety  for  his  wife,  had  been 
to  some  extent  reassured  by  his  parents'  promises. 
Though  completely  resolved  to  consider  the  present 
ceremony  as  non-existent,  he  had  no  choice  but  to 
play  his  part  as  the  situation  dictated;  and  (shall  we 
add?)  he  could  not  help  feeling  a  certain  curiosity 
as  to  the  personal  appearance  of  the  bride  who  was 
thus  being  imposed  upon  him.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  her  while  she  was  lifting  her  feet  and  bending  her 
head  to  leave  the  chair.  Obeying  the  rites,  he  made 
as  if  to  take  her  in  his  arms  at  the  instant  of  "crossing 
the  threshold,"  the  ceremony  whereby  a  man  recog- 
nizes a  woman  as  his  lawful  wife.  But  he  merely  put 
his  arm  round  her  waist,  at  the  same  time  holding  her 
hand  through  the  veil.  He  was  startled  by  the  firm 
strength  of  the  hand  as  it  answered  to  his  pressure. 

[192] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


But  there  was  no  more  time  to  formulate  conjec- 
tures about  the  bride's  appearance.  Chen  was  an- 
nouncing with  solemn  gravity:  "In  the  name  of  my 
venerated  ancestors,  in  the  presence  of  my  First  Wife 
'and  of  the  honourable  witnesses,  I  receive  this  day  the 
New  Bride,  and  I  authorize  my  son,  her  husband,  to 
lead  her  to  the  seats  prepared." 

Ming-ni,  followed  by  his  parents  and  Wang,  slowly 
and  gravely  escorted  the  New  Bride  to  the  two  gilded 
armchairs  which  had  been  placed  at  the  extreme  end 
of  the  Hall.  He  bowed  to  right  and  left,  and  they 
all  sat  down. 

"And  now,"  Chen  proclaimed,  "let  the  dancers  and 
choral  singers,  by  rhythmic  movement  and  sacred 
song,  exorcise  for  ever  all  evil  spirits.  Let  them  in- 
voke the  presence  in  this  house  of  all  those  happy  in- 
fluences which  bring  luck  upon  our  actions  and  con- 
fer success  on  all  our  undertakings." 

In  the  courtyard,  under  the  gnarled  and  twisted 
cedars,  a  space  had  been  cleared.  Two  or  three  ranks 
of  huge  red  lanterns  surrounded  the  place  thus  left 
vacant.  Beyond  the  little  pool  had  been  stationed  an 
orchestra  of  stringed  instruments,  two-stringed  fiddles, 
great  guitars,  and  the  like;  together  with  two  super- 
posed ranks  of  sounding  stones,  bronze  plates,  little 
bells,  and  cymbals;  and  flutes,  ocarinas,  long  trump- 
ets, and  other  wind  instruments.  The  leader  of  the 
orchestra,  a  musician  dressed  in  a  long  red  robe  with 
broad  sleeves,  gave  the  signal  by  scraping  his  baton  on 

[193] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  huge  back  of  a  sonorous  wooden  tiger.  The  or- 
chestra began  softly,  the  instruments  playing  in  uni- 
son, but  producing  an  extraordinarily  rich  and  ravish- 
ing effect  because  of  the  vibrant  concord  of  so  many 
different  timbres. 

Soon  the  leader  began  to  sing  a  low  and  haunting 
melody,  utterly  unlike  the  discordant  shrillness  of 
popular  songs. 

"Let  us  hymn  that  solemn  union 
Which  fulfils  the  law  of  the  Universe. 
The  union  of  the  Two  Principals  is  here  renewed. 
May  the  happy  pair,  like  evergreen  trees, 
Live  long  in  the  love  and  obedience  of  their  sons  and 
grandsons." 

A  choir  of  children's  voices,  fresh  and  soft,  took 
up  the  same  melody  in  an  accelerated  rhythm;  and 
sixty  tiny  dancers  in  long  and  flowing  robes  of  palest 
blue,  with  hanging  sleeves,  formed  in  a  square  like 
that  of  a  battalion,  holding  aloft  great  peacock  plumes 
which  they  slowly  waved.  They  separated,  rejoined, 
interwove,  and  turned  about,  tracing  the  set  pattern 
of  an  immemorial  and  comely  tradition.  Then  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra  sang  alone: 

"May  their  beloved  ancestors, 
Invoked  by  our  singing  and  our  dancing, 
Be  apprised  of  this  conjunction. 
Let  us  woo  them  by  our  choiring, 
And  may  their  wardship 
Shield  us  for  ever  from  spirits  of  evil." 
[194] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


This  time  it  was  a  choir  of  deep  and  sonorous  voices 
which  answered.  Sixty  men  in  dark  orange  robes 
entered  in  a  whirling  dance,  carrying  streaming  pen- 
nants of  vivid  colours  and  shields  of  wood  which  gave 
out  strange  and  unearthly  clangors  when  rhythmically 
struck.  The  dancing  children  and  this  new  corps 
de  ballet  intermingled,  separated,  crossed  and  re- 
crossed,  as  if  in  mortal  combat  with  the  evil  spirits; 
then  they  knelt  reverently,  as  if  beholding  the  shades 
of  the  ancestors  whom  their  song  had  invoked. 
Again  the  leader  sang  alone: 

"Ye  mysterious  Shades 
Who  appear  when  evening  falls 
And  hover  round  us  until  into  the  sky 
Light  is  summoned  once  more  by  the  crowing  cock, 
Be  propitious  to  this  bridal  pair ! 
Remove  every  stone  from  their  pathway; 
And  may  their  dreams,  thronged  with  your  presence, 
Warn  them  of  future  ills  and  give  them  present  joy." 

At  this  juncture  some  of  the  guests  noticed  that 
Ming-ni  and  his  new  wife  were  speaking  inaudibly  to- 
gether. They  smiled  indulgently,  and  Chen  and  the 
First  Wife  exchanged  a  knowing  look,  expressive  of 
vast  relief. 

A  troop  of  sixty  women  in  violet  gowns  appeared, 
each  carrying  a  bunch  of  flowers.  They  danced 
gracefully  to  the  steps  of  the  hall  itself  and  stood 
there,  offering  their  nosegays.  The  dancers  behind 
them  stood  motionless.  The  leader  paused  a  mo- 

[195] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ment,  silencing  the  instruments.  The  hush  was  mo- 
mentous, almost  oppressive.  At  its  deepest  intensity, 
the  leader  began  the  "Great  Prayer": 

"And  thou  above  all,  0  powerful  spirit, 
God  of  the  Rain  and  the  Wind, 
By  whose  will  all  efforts  succeed  or  fail, 
By  whose  aid  we  blundering  mortals  oft  achieve 
What  the  strongest  and  wisest  fall  short  of  — 
All-powerful  God,  thou  God  of  Luck! 
Ever  preserve  this  pair  at  the  top  of  thy  wheel 
Hear  my  prayer;  hearken  .to  my  reverent  singing." 

The  hundred  and  eighty  dancers  prostrated  them- 
selves, uttering  moans  and  lamentations  addressed  to 
the  God  of  Luck,  that  inscrutable  and  capricious  force 
which  governs  the  universe,  and  by  which  every  en- 
terprise is  prospered  or  thwarted;  which  no  man  can 
either  anticipate  or  control;  which  may  in  a  single 
day  cast  down  the  most  exalted  or  at  a  stroke  bestow 
fullness  of  prosperity  on  the  most  wretched;  which 
crowns  with  success  the  most  foolhardy  projects  and 
wrecks  the  most  elaborately  contrived.  Luck  it  is, 
in  the  last  analysis,  which  decides  whether  we  shall 
be  born  to  all  manner  of  great  endowments  in  a  king's 
palace  or,  indifferently,  to  the  most  damning  mental 
and  physical  defects  in  a  city  slum.  It  is  from  Luck 
alone  that  each  of  us  has  to  accept  his  ultimate  des- 
tiny. 

The  dances  and  prayers  ended  on  a  last  sombre 
cadence    from    the    orchestra.     In    the    courtyard 

[196] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


reigned  an  absolute  hush.  Chen  rose  from  his  seat 
and  proclaimed:  "The  solemn  moment  has  come. 
According  to  our  immemorial  usage,  and  in  order  that 
the  honourable  witnesses  may  know  with  their  own 
eyes  the  identity  of  the  couple  whose  marriage  is 
hereby  consecrated,  the  bride,  by  lawful  exception  to 
the  canons  of  modesty  ordinarily  obtaining,  will  now 
lift  up  her  veil  and  uncover  her  face." 

Ming-ni  then  rose  and,  bowing  to  the  assembled 
company,  said:  "0  Venerable  Witnesses,  my  bride, 
here  present  under  this  veil,  and  I  myself,  are,  then, 
incontestably  and  indissolubly  made  one?" 

"Beyond  any  possible  doubt.  Strange  question!" 
answered  the  Governor. 

"And  you,  0  my  Parents,  your  expressed  will  is 
that  I  shall  be  for  ever  united  with  this  woman?" 
asked  Ming-ni  again. 

"To  be  sure  it  is  our  will,"  answered  the  First 
Wife  energetically. 

"Then,  0  you  my  Parents,  and  you,  0  Witnesses, 
you  have  consecrated  according  to  our  rites  my  mar- 
riage to  the  Little  Elder  Sister  Monique  de  Rosen. 
Our  wedding  has  already  been  celebrated  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  Western  countries.  Today  you 
have  made  it  indissoluble  in  our  country  also." 

And,  raising  the  long  red  silken  veil,  he  disclosed 
the  lovely  and  smiling  face  of  Monique.  From  head 
to  foot  she  was  dressed  and  bejewelled  in  the  most 
orthodox  Chinese  fashion. 

[197] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


For  an  instant,  consternation  showed  on  every  face. 
"She,  the  foreign  woman!"  cried  the  First  Wife,  stupe- 
fied. "How  can  this  be?  I  knew  the  Devils  of  the 
Ocean  were  sorcerers,  but — " 

Chen  interrupted  her  sharply:  "Whatever  may 
have  happened,  no  scandal!"  Then,  smiling,  he 
leaned  toward  his  son  and  said:  "Was  it  in  the  West- 
ern countries  that  you  learned  to  play  such  tricks  on 
your  old  parents?" 

"The  Jade  Emperor  who  rules  over  the  hidden 
world,"  answered  Ming-ni  artlessly,  "undoubtedly 
wanted  to  reward  me  for  my  perfect  obedience  to  your 
commands.  He  has  transformed  my  bride." 

The  Governor,  perceiving  that  the  head  of  the  fam- 
ily seemed  to  countenance  the  denouement,  now 
rose  labouriously  and  said  for  all  to  hear:  "Admir- 
able! He  wanted  to  legitimatize  his  marriage. 
What  a  remarkable  fidelity  to  the  rites!"  And  then 
all  the  witnesses,  who  had  been  waiting  to  take  their 
cue  from  the  Governor,  likewise  rose  and  applauded. 

Wang  alone  gave  no  sign,  but  sat  on,  smiling  in  a 
happy  abstraction.  He  was  deep  in  the  composition 
of  a  new  poem. 


[198] 


XVI 

WHILE  the  witnesses  were  still  on  their  feet,  the 
Nuptial  March  was  heard  once  more  from  the 
outer  courtyard;  and,  while  it  filled  the  Palace  with 
its  entrancing  melody,  a  new  bridal  procession  ap- 
peared before  the  astonished  witnesses.  The  ranks 
of  dancers  opened,  and  a  second  wedding  sedan-chair 
was  brought  in  and  set  down  at  the  foot  of  the  marble 
steps.  Wang,  disturbed  in  his  reverie  by  the  bustle 
and  noise,  leaned  over  to  his  nearest  neighbour  and 
asked:  "Have  I  been  dreaming?  I  had  it  in  my 
mind  that  the  sedan-chair  had  arrived  some  time  ago, 
and  that  the  wedding  was  all  over." 

His  neighbour,  a  little  embarrassed,  searched  his 
mind  vainly  for  an  appropriate  answer.  He  could 
find  none.  Ming-ni  crossed  the  Hall  to  the  old  man 
and,  taking  his  arm,  led  him  to  the  Governor.  This 
worthy  functionary  looked  up  at  Chen  and  the  First 
Wife  for  an  explanation  of  the  mystery,  but  they 
seemed  to  be  as  baffled  as  he  was.  Ming-ni  bowed  to 
the  Governor,  to  his  parents,  and  to  the  witnesses. 
Then  he  said  loudly:  "0  Honourable  Elders,  deign 
now  to  be  the  witnesses  of  a  second  wedding.  My 
noble  father  has  been  made  responsible  for  the  for- 

[199] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


eign  Lord  Mackensie,  whom  we  all  know  and  respect, 
and  is  thus  a  second  father  to  him — " 

"Quite  true,"  said  the  Governor  with  a  nod. 

"My  father,  acting  in  that  capacity  in  the  name  of 
the  Great  Foreign  Lord,  has  exchanged  the  billets  of 
the  eight  ideograms  with  our  illustrious  poet  Wang, 
glory  of  our  City  and  pride  of  the  Palace  of  a  Hun- 
dred Flowers." 

"But  you  never  told  me  a  word  of  all  this,"  said 
Wang  in  a  low  voice  to  Chen. 

"I  didn't  know  it  myself — I  didn't  understand," 
muttered  Chen.  "But  what  does  it  matter?  Macken- 
sie's  life  is  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own — almost." 

"But — ,"  objected  the  old  man,  hesitating. 

"Your  daughter  loves  him,"  said  Monique  from 
behind  the  two. 

"Besides,  it  is  too  late  now,"  added  Ming-ni. 
"There  would  be  a  scandal." 

On  a  signal  from  the  young  man,  a  servant  ushered 
in  Mackensie.  He  wore  evening  clothes,  and  the 
sight  of  this  strange  costume  plunged  the  audience 
into  an  amazement  akin  to  awe.  The  young  for- 
eigner dropped  a  quite  correct  curtsey  before  the  Gov- 
ernor and  said :  "I  bow  to  the  Father  and  the  Mother 
of  the  People,  to  the  guardian  of  the  peace  and  pros- 
perity of  the  region,  to  the  representative  of  the  high- 
est authorities." 

"Ten  thousand  wishes  of  happiness  and  as  many 
congratulations!"  answered  the  complimented  digni- 

[200] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


tary;  and  all  the  audience  echoed  his  words.  The 
outcome  was  settled,  since  local  authority  had  sanc- 
tioned it.  Accordingly,  Wang  said  to  Chen:  "It  is, 
in  fact,  quite  correct  and  in  keeping  with  our  cus- 
toms. Everything  is  perfect." 

Mackensie  bowed  to  the  guests.  "I  salute  the  hon- 
ourable witnesses,  whose  virtue,  justice,  and  social 
gifts  make  this  city  the  abode  of  happiness  and  de- 
light." 

"We  bow  to  the  Venerable  Foreign  Lord,"  mur- 
mured the  guests,  won  over  in  turn. 

Ming-ni  now  said  to  his  father  in  a  low  voice: 
"Attend  him,  as  you  would  a  son." 

Chen  looked  at  the  First  Wife.  What  could  he  do? 
The  Governor  had  sanctioned  the  affair:  if  he  re- 
fused to,  there  would  be  a  scandal.  He  submitted 
with  good  grace  to  the  exigency  of  the  occasion. 
"Come,  0  my  Son,"  he  said  to  Mackensie,  smiling; 
and  the  two  went  down  the  steps  together. 

By  this  time  the  sedan-chair  had  got  across  the 
courtyard.  They  were  just  in  time  to  receive  it  with 
the  ceremonial  which  had  been  used  before.  Chen 
made  formal  announcement  of  the  "crossing  of  the 
threshold,"  and  himself  led  the  young  couple  to  the 
two  gilded  armchairs,  vacated  now  by  Ming-ni  and 
Monique.  But  this  time,  in  order  that  the  witnesses 
might  be  reassured  as  to  the  identity  of  the  new  bride, 
Mackensie  immediately  performed  the  ceremony  of 
the  unveiling,  and  revealed  to  the  admiration  of  those 

[2011 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


present  the  blushing  face  of  Orchid.     Monique  and 
Orchid  smiled  affection  and  relief  at  each  other. 

The  First  Wife  had  suffered  one  more  indignity 
than  she  could  bear.  She  got  up  and  went  grimly 
out  of  the  room. 

At  a  signal  from  Chen,  the  propitiatory  songs  and 
dances  began  again,  while  the  servants  filled  the  cups 
of  the  witnesses  with  a  perfumed  lukewarm  wine  and 
placed  on  the  tables  fresh  plates  heaped  with  dainties. 
Each  guest's  body-servant  stood  behind  his  master, 
preparing  his  silver  yea-trai,  or  long  thin  pipe,  and 
lighting  it.  Private  conversations  were  carried  on 
freely,  for,  among  the  rationalist  adherents  of  Con- 
fucianism, respect  for  even  the  most  solemn  observ- 
ances is  not  excessive.  Poets  exchanged  their  im- 
promptu verses  (most  of  them  prepared  long  before- 
hand) and  their  mutual  praises  of  each  other's  genius, 
couched  in  terms  hardly  less  lyrical  than  the  poems 
themselves.  A  few  simple  souls  played  "fists,"  each 
of  the  two  contestants  lowering  one  hand  suddenly  at 
a  given  instant,  and  saying  aloud  the  number  which 
he  believed  would  represent  the  fingers  open  or  shut 
on  his  opponent's  hand;  after  which  the  loser  must 
empty  his  cup  of  wine  and  exhibit  the  bottom  of  it, 
saying:  "Kan  pei" — "I  have  drained  the  cup." 
From  the  first  and  second  courtyards  came  the  laugh- 
ter and  chatter  of  the  innumerable  men  who  had 
formed  the  escorts,  and  who  were  now  drinking  and 
eating  as  much  as  they  could.  Among  the  witnesses 

[202] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


there  reigned  more  and  more  an  untrammelled  though 
gentile  gaiety.  It  was,  as  the  phrase  has  it,  a  feast 
of  "noise  and  movement" — "Shoo-nao" 

The  prayers  and  ceremonies  were  over  at  last. 
The  time  had  come  for  the  two  brides  to  enter  the 
secret  apartments  in  the  rear  and  undergo  the 
"women's  examination" — a  most  trying  ordeal,  for 
the  custom  is  to  allow  all  sorts  of  remarks  upon  the 
examinee,  even  the  most  insulting.  Perhaps  this  is 
considered  good  discipline  for  living  together  in  the 
same  household.  Tongues  were  particularly  sharp 
at  Monique's  expense.  The  curiosity  caused  by  her 
original  appearance  had  long  ago  subsided,  whereas 
the  memory  of  her  numerous  social  errors  was  fresh. 
The  Chief  of  Police's  call  and  the  fact  of  the  sen- 
tence of  death  were  known  to  everybody,  the  servants 
having  spread  the  news.  Moreover,  blue  eyes  and 
light  hair  are  not  in  high  favour  among  those  who 
call  themselves  li  min,  "the  folk  who  have  black  hair." 
"Tonight  married,  tomorrow  strangled!"  said  one. 
"That  will  teach  her  manners!"  "And  look  at  this 
other  one  who  marries  a  foreigner!  She  must  be 
crazy."  "They  say,  though,  that  he  is  a  great 
scholar.  Even  the  tao-she  and  the  Buddhist  priests 
consult  him  on  doctrinal  points."  "But  he  isn't  a 
Chinese  official."  "He  is  almost  an  adoptive  son  of 
the  Lord  Chen.  Besides,  the  Venerable  Wang  would 
never  have  authorized  the  wedding  if  everything  had 
not  been  correct."  "You  may  say  what  you  like,  all 

[203] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


this  would  never  have  happened  in  the  good  old  days. 
Such  marriages  are  contrary  to  our  sacred  tradition." 
"Anyhow,  I  wish  I  knew  how  they  are  going  to  kill 
the  barbarian." 

These  more  or  less  caustic  remarks,  and  others  like 
them,  though  made  in  low  voices,  reached  the  ears  of 
the  two  brides,  as  indeed  they  were  intended  to  do. 
Orchid,  knowing  Chinese  ideas  and  customs,  was 
really  'alarmed.  She  made  a  sign  to  Red  Peony,  who 
had  come  to  witness  the  success  or  failure  of  her 
stratagem  and  now  stood  valiantly  behind  her  mis- 
tress, ready  to  defend  her  or  die  with  her.  "Red 
Peony,"  said  Orchid  in  a  quick  whisper,  "did  you 
hear?  They  have  sentenced  her  to  death!  Why? 
What  have  we  done?  And  what  shall  we  do  now?" 

"It  is  not  because  of  the  exchange  of  brides  that 
she  is  condemned.  She  was  seen  with  your  hus- 
band when  the  presents  were  brought  in,  and  the  Chief 
of  Police  was  called  in  for  the  judgment.  What  we 
have  done  tonight  has  often  been  done  before.  Read 
the  Rao-Tsioo  chwan:  the  whole  novel  is  the  story  of 
a  bride  changed  for  another  at  the  last  minute.  Who 
would  protest  and  raise  a  scandal  for  such  a  thing?" 

"No  one.     But  Monique— 

"We  have  the  whole  night  ahead  of  us.  They  say 
that  nothing  is  to  be  done  until  the  Lord  Chen  and  the 
First  Wife  give  the  order,  tomorrow." 

"Yes,  but — suppose  they  should  already  have 
poisoned  her?" 

[204] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Monique  was  beginning  to  be  thorughly  fright- 
ened. At  first  she  had  been  relieved,  triumphant, 
at  the  success  of  their  daring  scheme.  But  this  mys- 
terious and  constantly  reiterated  threat  of  death,  this 
story  of  a  sentence  passed  upon  her  in  her  absence, 
recalled  to  her  mind  innumerable  urgent  warnings 
from  her  husband  and  his  earlier  anxiety  on  her  ac- 
count. Moreover,  these  women  in  their  vari-coloured 
dresses,  turning  their  strange  painted  faces  upon  her 
coldly,  blazing  with  jewels  and  reeking  with  the  per- 
fumes of  strongly  scented  flowers,  dizzied  her  with 
their  continuous  and  rapid  gesticulation,  the  shrill 
chatter  of  their  voices.  She  began  to  feel  her 
strength  abandoning  her.  All  at  once  she  had  a  sen- 
sation as  of  slipping  fast,  faster,  down  a  precipitous 
incline.  Then  she  closed  her  eyes.  "Mother!"  she 
heard  herself  call  in  a  weak  moan;  and  the  next  mo- 
ment she  had  fainted  dead  away. 

Orchid  and  Red  Peony  were  just  in  time  to  prevent 
her  from  falling.  They  called  servants,  gave  curt 
orders;  and  before  any  one  else  could  say  or  do  any- 
thing, Orchid  bade  the  slaves  help  her  carry  her 
unconscious  charge  to  her  own  pavilion. 

Even  in  that  moment  of  hysterical  excitement,  she 
did  not  forget  to  take  her  leave  of  the  company;  and 
not  the  most  captious  could  have  picked  a  flaw  in  the 
unremitting  propriety  of  her  demeanour  as  she  ad- 
dressed to  them  her  parting  salutations  and  acknowl- 
edgments. 

[205] 


XVII 

WHEN  the  Governor  had  taken  his  departure,  the 
guests  did  not  sit  down  again.  They  left  the 
house  in  a  body,  according  to  the  custom.  Ming-ni, 
in  spite  of  the  stress  of  his  feelings,  could  not  but 
stay  with  them  to  the  last.  It  was  his  inexorable 
social  duty.  But  as  soon  as  the  last  witness  was 
seated  in  his  sedan-chair,  the  young  man  hurried  to 
the  women's  apartments.  There  he  encountered  his 
mother.  She  told  him,  with  her  most  scornful  air, 
that  Monique  had  fainted  and  been  carried  to  her 
pavilion. 

"They  have  poisoned  her,"  said  Ming-ni  instantly. 
Poisoning  is  the  most  discreet  mode  of  execution  in 
such  family  dramas;  the  most  humane,  too,  for  if 
the  poison  is  strong  enough  the  victim  dies  almost  in- 
stantly, without  even  being  aware  what  has  happened. 

"Poisoned,  is  she?  Not  by  me,"  said  the  old  lady, 
with  transparent  regret.  "I  told  you  I  would  do  noth- 
ing without  forewarning  you.  As  for  your  poor  fa- 
ther," she  added  contemptuously,  "he  is  not  the  man 
to  have  done  such  a  thing." 

"She  may  have  poisoned  herself,"  said  Ming-ni. 
"What  has  she  eaten  here  tonight?" 

[206] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Nothing  at  all.  And  I  don't  give  her  credit  for 
enough  sense  of  honor  to  kill  herself.  If  she  had  had 
•any  self-respect,  she  would  not  have  waited  to  be 
sentenced.  What  I  did  and  said  to  her  would  have 
been  enough,  not  to  mention  what  all  the  women  in  the 
family  told  her. — If  you  had  only  heard  the  goings-on 
in  the  women's  apartments!" 

"We  can  talk  that  over  some  other  time,"  said  her 
son  hurriedly.  "Goodnight,  Mother." 

"Goodnight,  my  poor  deluded  child — " 

He  ran  to  the  pavilion.  There,  on  the  terrace  un- 
der the  projecting  roof,  he  came  upon  Mackensie, 
who  had  come  straight  to  the  pavilion  to  wait  for  him. 

"Don't  be  alarmed:  it  is  nothing,"  said  the  engi- 
neer, as  Ming-ni  approached.  "She  is  much  better, 
and  my  wife  is  with  her."  The  two  went  in  together. 

Monique  had  quickly  recovered  from  her  fainting 
spell.  She  had  opened  her  eyes  and  seen  Orchid 
bending  over  her,  gently  taking  off  her  head  orna- 
ments and  necklaces.  Monique  had  heaved  a  deep 
sigh  and  murmured:  "I  am  so  tired!"  Then,  re- 
calling the  occurrences  of  the  evening  and  her  own 
terror:  "Is  it  true  that  they  wish  to  kill  me?" 

"Don't  let  yourself  be  troubled  about  anything," 
said  Orchid  tenderly.  "We  have  contrived  to  ar- 
range both  our  weddings  as  we  wished,  just  when  it 
seemed  as  if  we  might  be  separated  for  ever  from 
those  whom  we  love.  We  will  save  you  from  the 
present  danger  as  well." 

[207] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"But  what  have  I  done?  They  cannot  sentence  a 
person  without  hearing  him  in  his  own  defence." 

Orchid  could  not  repress  a  smile.  "It  is  useless 
to  discuss  one's  fate,"  she  said  stoically.  "But  we 
can  try  to  evade  it  when  it  is  unbearable,  so  long  as 
evasion  is  possible." 

It  was  at  that  point  that  Mackensie  had  arrived. 
Orchid  told  him  the  situation  briefly,  and  he  went  out- 
side to  wait  for  Ming-ni  and  to  think  out,  if  possible, 
some  way  of  escape.  The  two  men  now  entered  to- 
gether. The  young  diplomat  rushed  to  the  couch  on 
which  his  wife  lay,  and  knelt  by  it  with  such  a  con- 
vulsive tenderness  that  Monique,  feeble  as  she  was, 
felt  herself  in  the  clutch  of  a  new  force.  She  threw 
her  arms  round  his  neck  and  cried:  "Save  me! 
They  are  going  to  kill  me." 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  he  answered  gently.  "You 
shall  not  die. — But  we  have  no  time  to  lose."  Then, 
to  the  others:  "My  parents  have  promised  not  to  do 
anything  before  tomorrow.  We  have  the  whole  night 
before  us  for  action.  Tomorrow  it  will  be  too  late. 
My  mother  will  never  forgive  us  for  this  substitution 
of  one  bride  for  another.  I  was  even  inclined  to  sus- 
pect her  of  having  poisoned  Monique.  Neither  are 
you  two  safe,  in  spite  of  my  father's  guarantee.  If 
any  one  of  us  were  really  poisoned,  it  would  only  be 
a  question  of  a  few  ounces  of  gold  to  buy  off  the  med- 
ical examiner,  the  woo-tso  whom  the  Governor  would 
send.  He  would  declare  that  you  died  a  natural 

[208] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


death,  and  no  one  would  dare  gainsay  him.  My  poor 
father,  despite  his  personal  feelings,  would  rather 
do  that  than  stand  the  constant  wrath  and,  still  worse, 
the  constant  nagging  of  my  mother." 

"Then  what  do  you  advise?"  asked  Mackensie. 

"We  must  fly  at  once.  I  will  write  a  note  to  my 
father.  He  will  find  some  way  of  delaying  the  pur- 
suit, if  my  mother  starts  one.  In  time,  they  may  for- 
get everything." 

"Fly?  I  had  thought  of  it  myself.  But  how? 
And  when?  We  have  no  porters,  no  travelling 
chairs,  no  horses — " 

"You  forget:  the  men  with  whom  I  have  just  re- 
turned most  be  still  in  the  Palace  grounds.  If  they 
are  not  dead  drunk,  they  will  be  able  to  start  at  a 
moment's  notice.  It  is  only  a  question  of  pay."  He 
called  his  servant  and,  without  explanation,  told  him 
to  fetch  in  at  once  the  mafoo-trow,  or  head  muleteer. 
Then  he  rapidly  helped  the  others  pack  their  few  ab- 
solutely indispensable  belongings. 

The  muleteer  appeared,  tidying  his  blue  linen 
blouse,  which  was  tied  at  the  waist  with  a  scarf,  and 
unrolling  his  long  plaited  pigtail  from  his  shaven 
head  as  a  mark  of  respect.  Ming-ni  met  him  on  the 
terrace.  "Your  men  and  horses  are  in  the  Palace?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  0  Great  Man." 

"They  have  eaten  and  drunk — and  not  too  much?" 

"Yes— no,  0  Great  Man." 
[209] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"I  have  just  received  an  order  to  start  on  an  official 
mission.  I  must  start  at  once,  and  travel  by  double 
stages." 

"But,  0  Great  Man,"  objected  the  muleteer,  who 
had  heard  some  of  the  stories  current  in  the  Palace 
and  was  afraid  of  finding  himself  implicated  in  some 
illicit  transaction,  "my  men  and  beasts  are  tired,  and 
they  cannot  start  again  without  rest." 

"Instead  of  the  regular  pay,  I  will  give  your  men 
double.  And  here  are  ten  ounces  of  silver  for  you 
yourself,"  said  Ming-ni,  who  had  foreseen  his  ob- 
jections. He  drew  from  his  sleeve  a  silver  ingot  and 
handed  it  to  the  man,  who  took  it  into  his  hand  and 
weighed  it  deliberatively.  "And  there  will  be  an- 
other like  it  for  you,"  added  Ming-ni,  "if  we  reach 
Weihsien  in  time.  But  if  you  are  not  ready  in  ten 
minutes,  I  shall  report  you  tomorrow  for  breach  of 
discipline  during  our  last  journey." 

"I  obey,  0  Great  Man,  I  obey,"  answered  the  fel- 
low hastily,  pocketing  his  ingot.  "Just  the  same,  the 
men  are  very  tired,"  he  added  hypocritically.  "Also, 
they  would  like  to  leave  something  behind  for  their 
families  here." 

"Here  are  five  ounces  for  them,"  said  Ming-ni. 
This  demand  also  he  had  foreseen.  "But  hurry." 
Then,  to  his  servant:  "We  must  have  two  sedan- 
chairs  and  two  saddle-horses.  The  foreign  lord  and 
his  wife  accompany  us.  Have  everything  got  ready 
in  silence,  and  in  the  square  outside  the  Palace.  I 

[210] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


prefer  not  to  disturb  the  rest  of  my  venerated  par- 
ents." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  servant;  and  he  hurried 
off  with  the  muleteer. 

Inside  the  pavilion,  the  travelling-boxes  were  al- 
ready packed.  The  two  young  women  had  withdrawn 
into  their  own  rooms  to  change  into  suitable  travelling 
clothes.  Mackensie  started  to  run  over  to  his  room 
part  in  the  evening's  events  had  been  no  less  effective 
in  the  temple,  but  the  faithful  Little  Badger,  whose 
for  being  silent,  displayed  a  trunk  and  a  handbag, 
ready  in  the  outer  room  of  the  pavilion.  "I  had  no 
great  confidence  in  the  upshot  of  this  affair,"  ex- 
plained Little  Badger,  "and  I  packed  the  more  valu- 
able belongings.  Will  the  Great  Man  make  sure  that 
everything  is  here?" 

Mackensie  looked  at  him  with  unstinted  admira- 
tion. "And  to  think  that  I  have  sometimes  called 
you  a  little  fool!"  he  said. 

"Please,  will  the  Great  Man  change  his  clothes  rap- 
idly?" said  the  servant,  deeply  gratified.  "Here  is 
a  travelling  suit." 

A  few  minutes  later,  when  the  muleteers  came  for 
the  luggage,  everybody  was  ready  and  waiting.  A 
crescent  moon  lighted  their  way  as  they  noiselessly 
crossed  the  gardens  and  the  courtyards.  They  went 
out  through  the  Palace  gate.  The  mules  and  horses 
were  huddled  in  a  group  in  the  large  open  square, 
their  heads  drooping.  The  men,  half  asleep  them- 

[211] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


selves,  tied  the  boxes  on  the  pack-saddles  without  the 
usual  accompaniment  of  swearing  and  screaming. 
Everybody  except  the  travellers  seemed  to  be  asleep, 
both  in  the  Palace  and  in  the  whole  city.  All  the 
houses  were  shut,  and  the  whole  place  was  like  the 
deserted  city  of  a  dream.  Now  and  again  a  dog  set 
up  a  furious  barking;  neighbouring  dogs  answered; 
then  all  was  silent  as  before.  From  the  Palace  gar- 
dens sounded  the  clap-clap-clap  of  a  watchman  beat- 
ing his  little  wooden  drum  in  order  to  inform  any 
possible  burglars  that  he  was  on  the  job  and  that 
they  had  better  think  twice. 

The  travellers  were  ready  at  last.  Monique  and 
Orchid  sat  together  in  one  sedan-chair;  in  the  other 
was  little  Red  Peony  with  their  personal  belongings. 
They  started  along  the  streets,  where  the  horses' 
hoofs,  striking  on  the  slippery  stone  slabs,  awakened 
echoes  in  the  shut  and  barred  shops  by  the  way. 
Ming-ni  had  with  him  the  passport  of  a  high  func- 
tionary on  an  official  mission ;  it  had  been  delivered  to 
him  before  his  immediately  preceding  journey.  This 
he  showed  to  the  guard  at  the  City  Gate,  who,  seeing 
that  it  was  all  in  order,  allowed  them  to  pass  through. 
They  were  out  at  last,  on  the  road  to  safety  and 
freedom. 

The  city  lay  in  a  fairly  broad  valley  surrounded  by 
high  hills.  A  thick  mist,  rising  from  the  flooded  rice 
fields,  smothered  the  pale  light  of  the  young  moon. 
Luckily,  the  roads  round  the  city  were  in  good  repair, 

[212]  ' 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


and  in  spite  of  the  obscurity  they  were  able  to  make 
very  respectable  progress.  When  the  first  grey  of 
dawn  outlined  the  crests  of  the  hills  and  turned  to  a 
tender  green  the  black  mass  of  the  uncultivated  slopes, 
they  were  already  in  a  chaotic  group  of  hills  well 
outside  the  valley. 


[213] 


XVIII 

WHEN  the  sun  had  risen,  they  stopped  a  few 
minutes  for  breakfast.  Then  they  plunged 
on.  Hours  passed;  the  leagues  piled  up  behind 
them.  They  began  to  believe  themselves  out  of  reach 
of  pursuit.  Then,  behind  them  on  the  sinuous  path- 
way which  followed  the  curve  of  the  hills,  they  saw  a 
single  horseman  galloping. 

Ming-ni,  constantly  turning  his  head  back  to  see 
whether  they  were  followed,  was  the  first  to  notice  the 
distant  apparition.  Calling  Mackensie's  attention  to 
it,  he  said:  "We  are  lost!" 

The  engineer  looked.  "But  he  seems  to  be  alone 
and  without  escort,"  he  said.  "We  will  buy  him  off, 
or  kill  him  if  necessary.  If  we  must  die,  better  die 
for  something  worth  it.  But  if  there  is  an  escort,  we 
are  indeed  lost." 

The  horseman  overtook  them  at  length.  It  was  a 
servant  of  the  Palace.  He  saluted  Ming-ni  respect- 
fully and  said:  "Peace  and  prosperity,  0  Great 
Man.  The  Lord  has  entrusted  me  with  this  missive 
for  you."  From  his  high  boot  he  drew  a  long  enve- 
lope sealed  with  a  red  paper  band,  and  gave  it  to  the 
young  man.  Ming-ni  looked  at  it  a  moment;  then, 

[214] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


having  recognized  his  father's  handwriting,  he  broke 
the  band  and  pulled  out  a  thin  sheet  of  flowered  paper 
covered  with  ideograms.  What  he  read  was  this: 

To  the  Lord  Imperial  Envoy  to  the  Foreign  Countries,  his 
father  sends  these  words: 

In  the  desire  not  to  trouble  the  bliss  of  newly  wedded 
couples,  I  availed  myself  yesterday  of  a  moment  when,  all 
our  guests  having  departed,  I  found  myself  alone  with  the 
First  Wife.  I  informed  her  that  during  the  feast  a  mes- 
senger had  brought  you  the  order  from  a  most  wise  Govern- 
ment to  start  again  without  a  moment's  delay  and  to  return 
to  your  post  in  Europe. 

The  First  Wife  could  scarce  believe  me.  She  even  wanted 
to  see  you  immediately  and  ask  you  your  intentions.  I  had 
to  use  all  my  authority  to  prevent  her.  She  consented  to 
wait  till  morning.  What  was  her  surprise  when  your  pa- 
vilion was  found  to  be  empty.  She  was  very  angry  that,  in 
your  haste  to  obey  the  Imperial  order,  you  should  have 
taken  away  with  you  your  wife,  from  whom,  it  appears,  cer- 
tain explanations  were  desired.  I  had  again  to  tell  her  that 
it  would  be  insulting  the  Imperial  Majesty  Himself  to  pursue 
and  stop  on  his  way  an  Imperial  Envoy. 

The  friend  for  whose  life  I  am  responsible  had,  I  am 
told,  some  work  to  survey  at  the  other  end  of  the  projected 
road  with  double  ruts  of  steel.  He  has,  of  course,  taken  this 
opportunity  of  travelling  with  you,  and  I  am  sure  that  you 
will  prevent  him  from  committing  any  useless  imprudence. 
It  appears  also  that  his  work  will  keep  him  away  for  some 
two  or  three  months. 

Everything,  in  short,  has  arranged  itself  admirably.  And 
your  unexpected  departure,  though  painful  to  our  hearts, 
will,  I  trust,  tend  only  to  your  future  happiness  and  suc- 
cess in  life. 

[215] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


After  a  certain  time,  all  rough  things  become  smooth 
again.  The  boiling  stream  of  anger  having  flowed  away, 
the  solid  rocks  of  affection  emerge. 

I  trust  that  the  Star  of  Happiness  will  shine  ceaselessly  on 
your  way,  and  that  a  favourable  wind  will  carry  you  to  your 
destination.  I  trust  also  that  you  will  be  promoted  in  rank, 
that  you  will  attain  to  a  great  longevity,  and  that  you  will 
have  many  sons  to  perpetuate  our  family  and  the  sacrifices 
to  our  ancestors. 

Ming-ni,  considerably  relieved  and  deeply  grateful 
to  his  father,  hastened  to  explain  to  Mackensie  and  to 
the  ladies  how  they  had  been  shielded.  Old  Chen's 
artful  hints  were  understood  and  appreciated. 
"Yes,"'  said  Ming-ni,  "but  my  mother  is  not  quite  so 
easily  managed.  She  may  very  well  change  her 
mind  yet,  and  send  an  armed  troop  after  us,  without 
even  telling  my  father  about  it.  Let  us  get  on  as  fast 
as  we  can." 

"Whatever  comes,  we  shall  die  together,"  said 
Orchid.  It  was  characteristic  of  her  not  to  be  able  to 
conceive  of  any  other  mode  of  escape  from  difficulties. 

They  had  to  resort  to  no  such  extremity.  Whether 
the  rapidity  of  their  march  had  rendered  an  actual 
pursuit  fruitless,  or  whether  the  First  Wife  had,  for 
once  in  her  life,  obeyed  her  husband,  they  never  knew. 
They  had  merely  the  pleasure  of  a  very  comfortable 
journey.  The  gangs  of  bandits  for  which  the  region 
was  notorious  had  probably  been  dispersed  by  recent 
military  operations.  In  any  event,  every  one  on  the 

[216] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


way  reported  that  the  whole  district  was  now  very 
quiet. 

Monique  and  Orchid,  constantly  together  and 
bound  to  each  other  by  their  vivid  common  memory 
of  recent  events,  felt  their  instinctive  sympathy  grow 
quickly  into  a  deep  affection.  Monique  pointed  out 
to  her  friend  scene  after  scene  of  her  own  earlier  trip. 
She  recalled,  too,  her  former  enchantment,  and  was 
surprised  because  she  was  not  now  moved  as  deeply. 
Rather,  the  landscapes  and  the  cities  caused  her  a 
sort  of  inexplicable  anguish. 

"Perhaps  it  is  unconscious  regret  at  leaving  them 
behind,"  suggested  Orchid. 

"But,"  said  Monique,  "this  is  not  my  own  country. 
How  could  I  regret  leaving  it,  when  I  was  not  in  the 
least  sorry  to  leave  France?" 

At  Krei-chow-foo  Ming-ni  and  Monique  had  to  part 
with  their  companions.  They  were  going  to  take  a 
house-boat  down  the  river;  Mackensie  and  Orchid  had 
to  stay  in  the  city.  Work  on  the  railway  line  had  be- 
gun. The  threatened  revolts  had  been  so  vigorously 
suppressed  that  muleteers  and  teamsters  had  thought 
it  preferable  to  do  nothing  and  lose  their  livelihood, 
rather  than  to  rebel  and  lose  their  lives.  Many  of 
them  had  already  found  profitable  employment  in  the 
new  construction  work.  They  sighed  for  their  past 
freedom,  and  they  did  not  particularly  enjoy  their 
monotonous  labour-^but  what  could  they  do  about  it? 

The  parting  of  the  friends  was  painful.  They  had 
[217] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


grown  to  trust  each  other  implicitly  in  the  common 
danger,  and  such  a  basis  for  affection  is  not  easily 
forgotten. 

"I  shall  study  as  hard  as  I  can,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  write  to  you  myself,"  said  Monique. 

"And  I  shall  study  your  language  in  order  to  be 
able  to  talk  to  you  in  it  when  you  come  back!"  an- 
swered Orchid. 

The  moment  came  for  Ming-ni  and  his  wife  to 
start.  The  two  women  kissed  each  other  with  tears 
in  their  eyes.  Orchid  and  Mackensie  went  ashore  to 
the  bank.  The  lao-ta  signalled  to  the  boatmen;  the 
last  rope  was  let  go;  the  boat  was  pushed  away  from 
the  vessels  moored  together  in  the  harbour;  the  sail 
was  hoisted,  and  they  began  to  glide  down  with  the 
current.  Orchid  and  Mackensie,  on  the  bank,  were 
soon  two  little  indistinct  figures,  and  then  they  were 
nothing. 

Monique  travelled  in  Chinese  clothes.  Her  fair 
hair  she  hid  under  ornaments  of  flowers  and  jewels. 
Whether  because  of  her  sadness,  or  because  of  the 
effect  of  the  six  months  she  had  passed  in  Oriental 
surroundings,  or,  perhaps,  because  of  the  lessons 
taught  her  by  the  events  just  past,  she  never  thought 
of  leaving  her  cabin.  She  sat  there  reading,  study- 
ing, or  doing  needlework.  Ming-ni  could  hardly  per- 
suade her  to  go  out  even  when  the  boatmen  were  hav- 
ing their  meals  and  there  was  no  one  on  deck. 

Arrived  at  Hankow,  they  had  to  leave  their  com- 
[218] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


fortable  house-boat  for  one  of  the  river  steamers.  In 
order  to  avoid  the  rough  remarks  and  rude  glances  of 
the  foreigners,  they  then  resolved  to  change  to  Euro- 
pean dress.  This  was,  to  Monique,  a  painful  ex- 
perience. She  could  hardly  walk  at  all  with  the  high 
heels  of  aforetime.  Her  hat  would  not  stay  on  her 
head.  Many  other  details  of  her  toilet  seemed  to 
her  the  acme  of  discomfort  and  barbarity. 

Ming-ni  had  to  go  to  Peking  to  pay  visits  to  some 
members  of  the  Wai-woo-poo,  or  Foreign  Office. 
The  details  of  the  journey  did  not  remain  in 
Monique's  mind.  She  recalled  only  two  or  three 
days  in  a  steamer,  then  the  train,  rolling  through  an 
immensity  of  grey  flatlands,  and  suddenly,  in  the 
midst  of  these,  a  gigantic  black  crenelated  wall  with 
high,  strange  edifices  set  at  regular  intervals,  and, 
in  the  far  distance,  a  half -circle  of  blue  and  mauve 
hills.  She  remembered,  too,  a  number  of  splendid 
palaces  and  temples,  moats  and  walls,  deep  gates  and 
strange  archways,  immensely  broad  avenues,  groups 
of  Tartar  horsemen  galloping,  dressed  in  rough  furs, 
and  escorts  of  Chinese  functionaries  cantering  along 
in  gorgeous  silken  robes.  All  these  details  were 
jumbled  and  confused  in  her  memory.  One  fact, 
though,  stood  out  with  clarity:  the  nondescript  build- 
ings of  the  foreign  legations  quite  failed  to  strike  her 
as  artistically  superior. 

From  Peking  they  started  again  by  train,  rolling 
day  and  night  for  a  fortnight,  at  first  through  grey 

[219] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


autumnal  plains,  then  through  the  Great  Wall,  along 
the  seaboard,  and  again  through  plains — those  of 
Manchuria.  Seated  comfortably  in  the  armchairs  of 
the  trans-Siberian,  they  saw  stretches  of  the  great 
forest,  the  taiga;  Irkutsk  the  White;  then  the  western 
moors,  the  tundras;  the  fir-clad  Ural  hills;  and  next 
the  black  earth  of  the  Russian  plains. 

Moscow  they  found  already  spoiled  by  modern  con- 
struction. Of  the  admirable  ancient  quarter,  very 
little  remained.  The  low  wooden  houses  of  old  time, 
with  their  quaint  pink,  green,  or  blue  fagades,  had 
been  replaced  by  sombre  grey,  hideously  ugly  mod- 
ern buildings  in  the  Berlin  style — that  unsightly  ar- 
chitectural mode  which  is  spreading  through  the  mod- 
ern city  and  ruining  its  potential  beauty  as  a  cancer 
ruins  the  beauty  of  the  human  body. 


[220] 


XIX 


ARRIVING  in  Paris,  they  found  Madame  de 
Rosen  and  a  group  of  her  friends  awaiting 
them.  Ming-ni  and  Monique  had  been  absent  for 
less  than  ten  months  all  told — not  long  enough  to 
have  been  entirely  forgotten.  Mother  and  daughter 
kissed  each  other  affectionately.  The  separation  and 
the  pleasure  of  reunion  had  obliterated  their  misun- 
derstandings of  the  past.  Madame  de  Rosen  even 
felt  a  considerable  pleasure  in  seeing  her  son-in-law 
again.  She  had  always  had  a  sort  of  notion  that  he 
was  going  to  subject  Monique  to  the  most  frightful 
indignities,  and  she  was  both  happy  and  a  little  sur- 
prised to  discover  that  she  had  been  in  error.  She 
lost  then  a  little  of  the  awe  with  which  Ming-ni  had 
once  inspired  her;  and  this  was  well.  "Those  Chin- 
ese are  not  so  mysterious,  after  all!"  she  concluded. 
"He  is  just  like  other  people,  though  less  vivacious." 
As  for  the  friends,  they  all  chattered  at  once  with- 
out waiting  for  answers,  as  is  the  Parisian  habit.  "I 
received  your  letters,  you  know,"  said  one.  "I 
showed  them  to  everybody.  You  have  seen  the  most 
astonishing  things!  But,  of  course,  you  must  have 
exaggerated  a  little — didn't  you?"  "Is  it  true  that 
you  had  to  eat  with  small  sticks?"  asked  another. 

[221] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"How  could  you  manage  the  rice  with  them?  You 
must  show  me  how  it  is  done."  "And  do  you  not  miss 
your  marvellous  Garden  of  a  Hundred  Flowers? 
Was  it  really  as  beautiful  as  you  described?"  "And 
your  father-  and  mother-in-law?"  asked  another, 
seizing  a  discreet  moment  when  Ming-ni  was  stand- 
ing apart  with  some  friends  of  his  from  the  Embassy. 
"Were  they  very  nice  to  you?  Did  they  speak  good 
French?  What!  No  French  at  all?  But  of  course 
you  speak  Chinese,  now  that  you  have  been  in  China. 
Oh!  just  say  a  few  words,  to  show  us  what  it  is  like." 
The  little  group  left  the  station  at  last  and  entered 
various  means  of  conveyance  to  go  to  Madame  de 
Rosen's  house,  to  which  Monique's  most  intimate 
friends  had  been  asked,  and  in  which  the  travellers 
intended  to  stay  for  a  few  days.  Monique,  in  a 
carriage  with  her  mother,  experienced  a  happy  calm 
which  she  had  not  known  for  a  long  time  past.  It 
was  a  tremendous  relief  to  know  that  she  was  free 
and  immune  from  any  attempt  on  her  life;  it  helped 
to  give  her  the  sense  of  a  return  to  normality.  The 
sight  of  a  policeman  suggested  dim  concepts  of  social 
order,  justice,  civilized  courts  of  law.  The  dingi- 
ness  of  streets  and  houses  awoke  only  her  more  sym- 
pathetic memories.  She  actually  almost  admired  the 
mixed  style  of  the  Grand  Palais  and  the  Petit-Palais  on 
the  Champs  Elysees,  though  she  smiled  at  their  Greek 
columns  under  this  smoky  modern  sky  and  at  their  gi- 
gantic gates,  copied  from  Mosques  of  the  Land  of  the 

[222] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Sun  and  ridiculously  out  of  place  in  the  grey,  cold 
atmosphere  of  the  North.  The  groups  of  horses  jump- 
ing into  space  from  the  corners  of  the  Palace  roof  and 
the  winged  steeds  on  the  columns  of  the  bridge  pleased 
her  with  their  meaningless  'absurdity.  Did  any  one 
ever  see  horses  galloping  on  a  roof?  The  movement 
and  bustle  in  the  streets,  the  hooting  of  motor-horns, 
the  women  with  their  bizarre  costumes  in  the  newest 
mode,  all  claimed  her  absorption.  She  asked:  "Is 
there  something  going  on  today,  to  bring  such  crowds 
into  the  streets?" 

The  chattering  and  incessant  questioning  of  her 
friends  in  Madame  de  Rosen's  drawing-room  made 
her  almost  dizzy,  though;  and  she  was  startled  by  the 
smallness  and  stuffiness  of  the  rooms,  which  had 
figured  in  her  memory  as  rather  notably  large. 

Madame  de  Rosen  and  the  guests  left  the  two  trav- 
ellers alone  at  last.  "After  such  a  long  trip,  you 
must  be  simply  tired  out,"  they  said.  As  a  fact, 
Ming-ni  and  Monique  had  never  been  less  tired  in 
their  lives. 

The  next  day  Ming-ni  went  back  to  the  Embassy 
and  resumed  his  work.  The  Ambassador  was  de- 
lighted to  see  him.  He  waved  aside  the  thanks  that 
Ming-ni  tried  to  formulate  for  his  patronage.  "Not 
at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  had  to  re- 
ward both  your  inherent  merits  and  your  industry. 
But  tell  me,  now,  did  you  get  there  in  time  for  those 
funeral  ceremonies?" 

[223] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Happily,  Ming-ni  had  not  forgotten  his  original 
pretext  for  leaving  France.  "Alas,  no,  0  Great 
Man,"  he  said.  "I  was  too  late.  But  the  proper 
sacrifices  have  been  rendered  by  me  before  the  sacred 
tablets,  and  I  hope  that  the  shades  of  our  ancestors 
are  placated." 

"And  your  uncle's  family?"  the  Duke  persisted. 
"Did  he  leave  a  great  number  of  wives  and  daughters? 
There  was  no  male  descendant,  of  course,  since  you 
had  to  go  yourself  to  perform  the  ceremonies." 

"No.  He  left  no  one  behind — neither  wives  nor 
daughters,"  said  Ming-ni,  thus  ruthlessly  restoring  to 
non-existence  a  whole  branch  of  his  family,  invented 
once  to  serve  a  moment's  need. 

"Heart-rending!"  said  the  Duke,  very  decorously, 
but  with  a  suspicion  of  archness.  "He  was  very 
young,  I  take  it?" 

"Yes,  extremely  young."  The  subject  dismissed, 
Ming-ni's  life  settled  promptly  into  its  ordinary 
groove. 

Monique  found  herself  suddenly  surrounded  and 
sought  out  by  hosts  of  the  curious.  Her  friends  were 
glad  to  see  her  again,  and  of  course  they  were  fas- 
cinated by  her  numerous  anecdotes  of  Chinese  life 
and  customs.  Her  gaiety,  her  beauty,  her  native 
charm,  and  a  new  quality  of  winsomeness  which  she 
had  acquired  were  of  enormous  social  value  in  her 
circle.  She  became  more  and  more  appreciated;  she 
even  achieved  a  degree  of  celebrity.  She  had  become 

[224] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"the  beautiful  and  charming  Viscountess  of  Lin." 
No  reception  of  travelled  illuminati  was  complete 
without  her.  It  was  suggested  to  her  more  than  once 
that  she  ought  to  publish  a  book  on  her  experiences 
— though  she  had  been  prudent  enough  to  keep 
strictly  to  herself  the  most  momentous  of  her  adven- 
tures. Her  new  success  gave  her  an  increased  pleas- 
ure in  social  functions.  She  had  not  lost  her  sense 
of  others'  futility,  but  as  her  own  superiority  was 
tacitly  recognized,  she  made  allowances  for  other 
people's  shortcomings,  and  derived  a  kind  of  inex- 
plicable satisfaction  from  their  ingratiating  flattery  of 
herself. 

Her  mother  now  attended  her  constantly.  She  was 
proud  of  her  daughter's  success,  and  as  this  was  due 
in  part  to  the  name  and  position  of  her  son-in-law,  she 
was  all  smiles  and  solicitude  to  him.  Dinners,  teas, 
receptions,  and  long  calls  on  dressmakers  filled  once 
more,  with  a  gay  and  unfailing  regularity,  the  nights 
and  days  of  the  two  ladies. 

A  year  after  Ming-ni's  return,  the  Duke  of  Krong 
went  back  to  China.  He  had  succeeded  in  getting 
Ming-ni  appointed  in  his  place.  The  young  couple 
now  had  to  themselves  the  splendid  hotel  in  the  Rue 
de  Babylon.  For  Monique,  this  was  the  topmost  rung 
of  the  ladder  of  social  success. 

She  had  well-nigh  forgotten  Orchid.  The  memo- 
ries of  her  sojourn  in  China  had  become  reduced  to 
the  due  Parisian  scale  of  a  collection  of  pat  phrases 

[225] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


such  as  would  revive  the  interest  of  a  dull  encounter 
or  lend  renewed  zest  to  a  moribund  conversation. 
"The  Yang-tse  rapids  .  .  .  the  shimmering  water 
.  .  .  the  chains  of  coolies  pulling  at  the  junks  .  .  . 
"the  mountains,  the  narrow  winding  paths  made  of 
large  stone  slabs  .  .  .  the  strings  of  laden  mules. 
.  .  ."  Or,  sometimes,  it  would  be:  "Our  house 
and  gardens  over  there,  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred 
Flowers  .  .  .  my  friend  Orchid — "  And  then  some 
one  would  ask:  "Orchid!  what  a  charming  name. 
Do  all  Chinese  women  have  the  names  of  flowers?" 

"You  ought  to  go  to  Peking  for  the  autumn,  instead 
of  to  the  country,"  she  would  say  to  her  friends.  "It 
is  so  near  now,  with  the  trans-Siberian — only  four- 
teen days — " 

"And  did  you  wear  Chinese  dress?"  some  one 
would  interrupt. 

"Of  course.  .  .  ."  And  if  her  friends  were  in 
the  Embassy,  they  would  look  at  the  robes  and  jewels, 
try  on  the  pearl  head-dresses. 

Two  years  elapsed  in  this  fashion.  Monique's  suc- 
cess, however,  diminished  by  hardly  perceptible 
stages.  She  no  longer  took  the  same  delight  in  her 
surroundings,  nor  was  her  stock  of  tales  and  glimpses 
of  China  by  any  means  inexhaustible.  Her  Chinese 
costumes  remained  untouched  in  the  wardrobe  for 
long  and  longer  intervals,  and  her  jewels,  ceasing  to 
be  a  novelty,  ceased  to  excite  admiration.  Little  by 
little  her  invitations  fell  off.  This  was  exactly  in  ac- 

[226] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


cordance  with  her  own  wishes,  as  they  were  now  com- 
ing to  be.  Her  circle  gradually  restricted  itself  to  a 
few  intimate  friends  and  the  necessary  official  ac- 
quaintances of  her  husband.  Social  functions  in  gen- 
eral had  become  simply  duties  once  more,  and  weari- 
some duties  at  that. 


[227] 


XX 

IT  was  at  this  phase  of  her  life  that  her  husband 
was  called  to  Peking  in  order  to  study  there  the 
preliminaries  of  a  projected  treaty  with  France. 
Ming-ni,  taught  by  their  earlier  sojourn  in  China  and 
uncertain  as  to  the  conditions  of  his  life  in  Peking, 
decided  to  leave  Monique  behind.  The  same  consid- 
erations prevented  her  from  insisting  that  he  take  her. 
He  started  alone,  then,  promising  that,  if  his  absence 
were  prolonged,  he  would  make  arrangements  for  her 
to  join  him. 

His  departure  left  her  more  lonely  than  ever. 
The  round  of  receptions  and  dinner-parties  was 
broken.  She  found  herself  without  an  occupation. 

During  this  period  she  began  to  see  more  and  more 
of  her  mother.  Their  intimacy  became  greater  than 
it  had  ever  been.  They  read  the  same  books,  showed 
each  other  their  letters.  They  lived  in  a  state  of 
friendship  which  can  exist  between  mother  and  daugh- 
ter only  when  there  is  complete  mutual  understand- 
ing. 

Owing  to  Monique's  position,  they  found  them- 
selves practically  under  obligation  to  read  everything 
that  was  published  on  the  Far  East.  Many  authors 
dedicated  their  works  to  the  widely-known  Viscount- 

[228] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ess  of  Lin.  But  they  were  not  greatly  interested  in 
mere  records  of  travel.  Studies  of  Oriental  customs, 
philosophies,  and  sentiments  were  more  frequently  the 
subject  of  their  absorption.  Madame  de  Rosen  re- 
mained decidedly  French  in  her  judgments.  Par- 
isian life  was  her  criterion  for  everything.  Nothing 
which  was  at  variance  with  it  was  to  be  countenanced 
for  a  moment.  Monique,  taught  by  experience,  had 
to  concede  that  some  things  did  exist  outside  Paris  and 
Parisian  preconceptions.  Perhaps,  too,  she  some- 
times had  the  impulse  to  defend  alien  usages  in  order 
to  stimulate  conversation  with  a  spice  of  disagree- 
ment. In  such  wise  they  beguiled  the  time,  in  de- 
fault of  better  occupations. 

Ming-ni's  first  letters  to  his  wife  recited  the  details 
of  his  work  in  Peking,  the  compliments  of  high  dig- 
nitaries, his  chances  of  future  promotion,  and  above 
all  his  unalterable  devotion  to  her,  his  regret  at  the 
separation,  his  hope  of  a  speedy  return.  But  in  the 
sixth  month  after  his  departure,  Monique  received  a 
letter  which  troubled  her  and  stirred  the  most  painful 
memories. — 

My  sadness  at  not  seeing  you  [he  wrote]  daily  increases. 
I  am  lonesome  without  you,  and  I  dream  constantly  of  the 
happiness  of  reunion. 

Just  lately,  my  health  has  not  been  so  good  as  it  used  to 
be.  I  find  myself  wearied  of  everything  and  distrustful  of 
the  future.  It  comes  over  me  that  the  years  are  passing,  and 
that  we  are  still  childless.  In  spite  of  myself,  I  am  con- 
stantly wondering  whether  our  ancestors  and  ourselves  are 

[229] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


destined  to  remain  without  posterity  to  perpetuate  our  line, 
and  without  the  sacrifices  whereby  sons  and  grandsons  would 
appease  the  yearning  of  our  wandering  shades. 

I  wonder  if  it  is  my  fate  to  be  the  last  of  my  name?  Or, 
on  the  other  hand,  shall  we  have  the  happiness  of  being  sur- 
rounded by  the  generations  of  our  descendants,  who  would 
bring  warmth  and  joy  to  our  hearts  at  a  time  when  they  will 
naturally  be  growing  sluggish  with  age  and  disillusionment? 

It  is  the  sole  form  of  immortality  to  which  men  can  pre- 
tend, but  it  is  real.  Mysterious  laws  of  nature  force  this  as- 
piration upon  us  sooner  or  later.  Why,  consider:  even  in 
the  immoral  and  heedless  West,  the  childless  woman  is  a 
creature  of  despair. 

I  speak  frankly  to  you  in  the  full  knowledge  that  we  are  by 
no  means  without  hope.  Your  vigorous  and  radiant  youth 
still  colours  everything  for  you  in  the  brightest  hues.  But, 
alas,  a  few  years,  even,  sometimes,  a  few  days,  suffice  to 
change  such  confidence  into  despair,  and  such  happy  care- 
lessness into  the  bitterest  dejection. 

I  wish  you  would  give  me,  with  equal  frankness,  your 
own  reactions  on  this  subject — which,  to  any  Chinese,  is,  as 
you  know,  of  the  first  importance. 

"He  is  a  man  full  of  delicacy,  and  he  has  the 
strongest  family  instincts,"  declared  Madame  de 
Rosen  when  she  saw  this  letter.  "I  would  never  have 
believed  that  those  queer  creatures  could  have  such 
ideas  and  express  them  in  such  a  fashion.  It  really 
is  too  bad  that  you  have  had  no  children — one  or 
two,  perhaps;  not  more.  It  enlivens  a  home.  On 
the  other  hand,  children  occupy  such  a  place  in  the 
house  that  one  ends  by  living  only  for  them  and 
through  them,  which  in  the  long  run  brings  more  care 

[230] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


than  pleasure. — Anyhow,  my  poor  girl,  in  this,  as  in 
everything  else,  we  have  to  get  along  with  what  we 
have,  since  we  can  never  get  just  what  we  want." 

"That  is  all  very  well,  mama,"  answered  Monique 
plaintively,  "and  I  do  wish  I  had  children.  But  I 
have  none,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  never  have  any." 

"Tut,  tut!"  said  her  mother.  "You  never  can  tell 
what  may  happen.  Plenty  of  people  have  children 
after  having  been  married  for  years." 

"Yes — but  suppose  I  should  have  none,  after  all? 
My  husband  would  be  terribly  disappointed,  and  he 
would  hold  me  responsible." 

"But  one  never  knows  who  is  really  to  blame  for 
such  things,"  interposed  her  mother  hastily. 

Monique,  attempting  to  answer  the  letter,  tore  up 
beginning  after  beginning  before  she  could  satisfac- 
torily convey  her  regret  and  the  sense  of  her  complete 
helplessness.  Presently,  another  letter  from  Ming-ni 
brought  her  further  distress  and  perplexity. — 

My  father  [he  wrote]  has  come  to  Peking  on  purpose  to 
see  me.  He  has  several  times  expressed  his  disappointment 
at  not  being  able  to  see  you,  too. 

He  tells  me  that  my  mother  has  never  been  able  to  recover 
from  the  spasm  of  anger  that  our  wedding  and  our  hasty 
leave-taking  caused.  Her  temper,  sufficiently  irascible  be- 
fore, bursts  out  in  the  most  terrible  rages  at  the  slightest 
contradiction.  And  she  suffers  physically  from  this  lack 
of  self-control.  Her  health  is  by  no  means  what  it  was. 

Thanks  to  these  conditions,  my  father  has  had  three  rather 
dreadful  years.  It  was  with  great  alacrity  that  he  snatched 

[231] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


at  the  excuse  of  coming  here  to  see  me  —  though  of  course 
he  went  through  the  motions  of  pretending  to  regard  it  as 
a  distasteful  duty.  His  life  in  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred 
Flowers  has  become,  in  his  own  phrase,  sea-water  and  vine- 
gar. 

He  brings  me  news  from  our  friends  Mackensie  and  Or- 
chid. They  are  living  in  our  old  pavilion  in  the  garden. 
Having  already  three  children,  who  play  and  scream  through 
all  the  rooms  in  the  Palace,  they  are  greatly  in  favour  with 
my  mother.  Mackensie  has  been  appointed  to  a  fairly  high 
office  as  representative  of  the  Board  of  Transportation,  a 
fact  which  is  very  gratifying  to  our  old  friend  Wang  — 
who,  by  the  way,  has  been  received  as  a  member  of  the 
"Forest  of  Brushes." 

My  father  has  been  most  anxious  and  worried  to  find  me 
ailing,  though  my  condition  is  really  nothing  to  worry  about. 
But  he  has  spoken  to  me  repeatedly  and  at  length  on  the 
subject  of  our  still  non-existent  posterity,  and  he  presses  me 
to  take  some  action  about  it.  ... 

Monique  showed  this  document  to  her  mother, 
commenting:  "I  am  dreadfully  upset  by  that  visit 
from  my  father-in-law.  I  know  he  is  going  to  win 
Ming-ni  over  to  all  his  own  old-fashioned  Chinese 
prejudices." 

"But  your  husband  has  lived  in  Europe  long 
enough  to  know  that  these  stories  of  ancestral  worship 
are  pure  nonsense.  It  is  a  pity  that  his  title  and  his 
fortune  should  go  to  his  brothers  instead  of  to  your 
children.  That  is  the  main  thing." 

"Oh,  it  is  easy  enough  for  you  to  talk,  but  that 
never  changed  any  one's  instincts  and  inborn  ideas. 

[232] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Of  course,  we  are  still  young,  and  entitled  to  hope. 
And  yet — we  have  been  married  five  years.  And  if 
we  did  have  a  child,  it  might  just  as  likely  be  a  girl, 
which  would  not  help  at  all  in  connection  with  their 
sacrifices,  because  women  are  supposed  to  lack  the 
necessary  virtues." 

"Then  what  can  you  do?"  asked  Madame  de  Rosen. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Monique  despondently. 
"What  does  one  do  in  such  a  situation?  See  a  doc- 
tor? You  know  what  doctors  are.  They  talk 
learnedly  and  order  extraordinary  prescriptions — 
and  nothing  whatever  comes  of  it."  After  a  pause 
she  went  on:  "Yes,  my  husband  seems  to  take  it 
very  seriously  indeed.  My  father-in-law  is  sure  to 
keep  hounding  him  about  it.  And  it  has  already  been 
the  cause  of  one  domestic  melodrama — " 

"What  melodrama  is  this?"  asked  Madame  de 
Rosen  quickly.  Monique  had  never  as  yet  told  her 
anything  of  the  details  of  their  flight  from  China. 

"Why,"  answered  Monique,  slightly  embarrassed 
and  wishing  she  had  said  nothing,  "my  mother-in-law 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  me  because  I  was  childless." 

"Get  rid  of  you!  You  never  said  anything  about 
it  to  me. — And  how,  pray,  did  she  propose  to  get  rid 
of  you?" 

"Oh,  divorce,  I  suppose.  Or  worse."  Monique 
tried  to  put  it  trivializingly. 

"She  must  be  a  dangerous  lunatic,  that  old  hag!" 
said  the  baroness. 

[233] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"She  had  to  watch  over  the  interests  of  her  fam- 
ily," replied  Monique  calmly.  "Over  there,  a 
woman  must  have  children,  and  a  man  is  entitled  to 
repudiate  any  wife  who  does  not  fulfill  that  condition. 
She  was  simply  upholding  the  customs  of  her  own 
country." 

"A  fine  country,  I  must  say!  You  are  well  out  of 
it." 

The  next  week's  post  brought  new  perturbation. 
Ming-ni,  after  describing  his  daily  occupations, 
went  on: 

My  father  has  been  talking  to  me  again  about  our  future. 
He  has  just  had  a  message  from  my  mother.  According  to 
the  messenger,  she  is  dangerously  ill,  and  in  her  letter  she 
mentions  the  state  of  her  health  without  any  illusion.  She 
writes  that  she  could  die  happy  if  she  could  only  see  me 
with  a  son.  She  constantly  insists  that,  considering  the  ap- 
parent hopelessness  of  our  outlook,  I  ought  to  repudiate  you 
and  marry  again,  or  else  take  a  second  wife. 

Of  course,  I  have  explained  to  my  father  that  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  consider  the  expedient  of  divorce.  You 
know  me  well  enough  to  rest  assured  that  I  love  you  and 
that  my  feelings  will  never  change.  You  are  my  First  Wife, 
in  China  as  well  as  in  Europe;  the  foundation-stone  of  my 
family,  as  well  as  the  friend  of  my  life.  You  and  I  are 
one. 

You  must,  I  am  sure,  share  my  own  views  about  the  future 
of  our  blood,  the  perpetuation  of  our  family.  I  beg  you, 
therefore,  to  think  over  the  question  most  earnestly,  and  to 
give  me  your  frank  advice  about  what  we  shall  do  next, 
so  that  this  question  of  our  offspring  may  be  definitely  set- 
tled. You  know  me;  also,  you  know  our  customs,  the  dif- 

[234] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ferent  means  of  achieving  this  end.  I  leave  absolutely  to 
you  the  choice  of  what  is  to  be  done,  insisting  only  that 
something  must  be  done,  and  as  soon  as  possible. 

Monique  was  with  her  mother  when  this  letter  was 
handed  to  her.  Without  a  word,  she  passed  it  over 
to  the  elder  woman.  Herself,  she  sat  for  a  long  time 
staring  abstractedly  into  vacancy.  Then  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  began  to  weep  silently. 
Her  mother  ran  through  the  letter;  then  she  tossed  it 
angrily  to  the  floor  and  exclaimed:  "What  does  he 
want?  What  on  earth  is  there  to  do?" 

"Oh,  mama!"  sobbed  Monique,  "you  don't  under- 
stand. It  is  the  end  of  everything,  for  me." 

"The  end  of  everything?  He  is  not  proposing  to 
kill  you,  I  imagine?" 

"No,  but — I  know  what  he  means." 

"Well,  you  know  more  than  I  do,  then,"  fumed  her 
mother.  "And  what  is  it  that  this  precious  scoundrel 
wants,  that  should  make  you  so  wretched?" 

"He  wants  a  child,  a  son;  and  he  is  offering  me  a 
choice  among  the  various  means  of  getting  one." 

"The  various  means!"  exclaimed  her  mother 
in  amazement.  "I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  follow 
you." 

"The  long  and  short  of  it  is,"  said  Monique,  driven 
to  nervous  desperation,  "that,  since  we  have  no  chil- 
dren of  our  own,  and  children  he  must  have,  his  only 
choice  is  to  divorce  me,  take  a  second  wife,  or  adopt 
one  of  his  brothers'  children.  These  are  the  only 

[235] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


courses  which  his  national  customs  leave  open  to 
him." 

"Well,  let  him  adopt  the  son  of  one  of  his  broth- 
ers," said  the  baroness.  "I  don't  see  anything  so 
awful  in  that." 

"His  brothers  have  had  no  sons  as  yet — only 
daughters." 

"Oh!  That  alters  the  case.  Then  the  choice  is 
between  a  divorce  and — ?" 

" — And  a  second  wife." 

"And  you  have  to  do  the  choosing  yourself,  and 
say  which  you  prefer — poison  or  dagger?" 

"He  loves  me,  and  I  love  him.  He  could  have 
divorced  me  a  long  time  ago  if  he  had  wished,  for 
the  wife's  consent  is  not  required.  No,  he  wants  to 
keep  me,  and  he  wants  me,  of  my  own  accord,  to  sug- 
gest that  he  take  a  second  wife." 

Madame  de  Rosen's  outraged  loyalty  to  her  daugh- 
ter expressed  itself  in  the  form  of  bitter  irony. 
"Well,  well!"  she  said,  "I  don't  know  which  to  ad- 
mire more,  his  delicacy  in  leaving  it  to  you  to  sug- 
gest the  only  course  which  is  possible,  or  his  effron- 
tery in  expecting  your  own  command  to  be  treated  in 
such  a  shameless  fashion. — I  would  get  rid  of  him, 
if  I  were  you." 

"But  I  love  him,  mama!  Don't  you  understand?" 
cried  the  poor  girl.  "Oh,  what  way  out  can  I  find? 
What  shall  I  do?" 

Madame  de  Rosen  walked  agitatedly  across  the 
[236] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


room.  Then  she  stopped  in  front  of  her  daughter. 
"A  second  wife!  A  second  wife!"  she  stormed. 
"Truly,  a  nice  euphemism  for  something  perfectly 
unmentionable!  They  have  second  wives  here  in 
Europe,  too,  but  they  call  such  women  what  they 
really  are." 

"You  know  very  well  that  it  is  not  the  same  thing," 
answered  Monique.  "There  is  no  deceit,  no  secrecy, 
no  petty  lying.  Everything  is  done  openly,  and  with 
the  First  Wife's  full  consent." 

"If  she  is  idiotic  enough  to  allow  such  doings,  she 
deserves  all  she  gets." 

"But  you  are  forgetting  about  the  children, 
mother." 

"The  children,  the  children!  Here  in  France, 
which  is  a  civilized  country,  when  one  has  no  children 
one  goes  without.  You  have  no  children.  Is  it  such 
a  calamity,  after  all?  You  are  young  enough,  and 
you  can  afford  to  wait.  Don't  let  your  husband  gull 
you  with  such  yarns.  He  wants  to  gratify  a  little 
personal  fancy  of  his  own,  and  he  is  trying  to  arrange 
things  to  suit  himself;  that  is  all  there  is  to  it.  If  you 
let  him  have  a  second  wife,  he  will  take  a  third,  a 
fourth — a  hundredth,  for  all  you  know.  You  will 
soon  have  a  whole  harem  in  your  house,  and  be  forced 
out  of  it  yourself."  She  paused,  but  only  to  gather 
her  forces  for  still  bitterer  invective.  "Just  think  of 
what  people  here  will  say  when  they  mention  you. 
They  will  ask:  'The  Viscountess  of  Lin?  Which 

[237] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


one?  Number  one?  Number  two?  Number 
fifty?'  No,  believe  me,  my  dear,  I  know  men. 
They  always  find  a  good  explanation  to  cover  their 
little  transgressions.  Even  your  dear  father — well, 
it  was  impossible  to  be  really  sure  of  him  until  he 
was  dead." 

"But,  mama,  you  forget  that  Ming-ni  has  a  perfect 
legal  right  to  do  as  he  likes.  He  may  take  as  many 
wives  as  he  chooses,  and  I  have  nothing  to  say  about 
it." 

"Well,"  said  her  mother  helplessly,  "you  know 
that,  for  my  part,  I  have  always  been  against  this 
foreign  marriage,  anyway.  If  you  had  listened  to 
me  in  the  first  place,  you  would  be  in  no  such  dilemma 
now." 

"If  I  had  married  a  Westerner,  I  might  be  learn- 
ing now  that  my  husband  had  always  been  on  the  most 
intimate  terms  with  my  best  friend,  and  that  the  whole 
town  knew  of  it  and  was  laughing  at  me." 

"Well,  it  does  happen  sometimes,  to  be  sure.  But 
then  you  get  a  divorce." 

"Shall  I,  as  it  is?     I  don't  want  a  divorce." 

A  few  days  later  she  heard  from  Ming-ni  again,  in 
a  letter  even  more  urgent  and  explicit  than  the  pre- 
ceding.— 

I  have  been  thinking  about  our  problem  long  and  ear- 
nestly. I  love  you,  and  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  losing 
you.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  the  possibility  of  divorce 
cannot  be  entertained  for  a  single  minute.  My  brothers 

[238] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


having  no  sons,  I  cannot  adopt  one  of  their  children.  We 
have  no  relatives  near  enough  to  ask  them  to  give  us  one 
of  their  sons.  And  I  cannot  reconcile  myself  to  the  thought 
of  letting  our  ancestors  be  worshipped  by  someone  who  has 
not  a  drop  of  their  blood  in  his  veins.  Personally,  I  should 
have  a  strong  distaste  for  taking  into  my  house  a  child  who 
would  be  neither  my  own  son  nor  a  near  relative.  More- 
over, I  could  buy  such  a  child  only  from  poor  and  unedu- 
cated people,  and  I  should  be  in  a  constant  agony,  knowing 
that  his  lack  of  hereditary  superiority  might  plunge  our 
family  to  ruin  and  destruction.  Even  children  of  good  stock 
are  not  always  perfect,  it  is  true,  and  the  son  of  a  very 
ordinary  man  may  become  a  genius.  But  as  a  rule  the 
laws  of  heredity  are  not  transgressed — especially  in  our 
country,  where  for  several  thousand  years  the  closest  atten- 
tion has  been  paid  to  such  matters,  and  where  breeding  is  not 
so  crazily  helter-skelter  as  in  Europe. 

The  one  remaining  solution  is  for  you  to  allow  me  to  take 
a  second  wife. 

I  remember  very  well  that  I  promised  you  never  to  do 
this  without  your  express  consent.  This  promise  I  now 
reaffirm.  I  will  never  do  it  if  you  do  not  freely  grant  me 
that  consent. 

If  you  were  to  do  so,  it  is  to  be  clearly  understood  that, 
as  is  the  custom,  the  child  of  this  second  wife  would  be 
your  own  child,  not  hers.  If  you  wished  it,  we  could  send 
her  away  as  soon  as  she  had  given  you  a  son.  She  would 
be  your  servant  and  nothing  more  until  she  went  away,  and 
our  love  and  happiness  would  in  no  way  be  touched  or  inter- 
fered with. 

Your  last  letter  does  not  answer  this  grave  question.  My 
father  presses  me  for  a  decision  every  day.  My  mother  is 
waiting  anxiously.  The  worry  is  likely  to  hasten  her  death, 
whereas  the  happiness  of  having  a  grandchild  might  pro- 
long her  life.  .  .  . 

[239] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Monique,  now  more  tortured  than  ever,  read  this 
passage  to  her  mother,  who  took  the  letter,  looked 
it  through,  and  then  said:  "What  utter  nonsense! 
A  servant  who  is  not  a  mistress,  a  child  who  would  be 
yours  without  being  born  of  you,  a  wife  who  is  to  be 
sent  away  as  soon  as  she  has  given  birth  to  a  son — 
what  does  all  this  mean,  now,  in  plain  French?" 

"It  is  simple  enough,  mama.  The  poor  girl  will 
be  bought  for  a  certain  term,  and  as  soon  as  we  do 
not  need  her  any  more  we  may  sell  her  again  and  keep 
the  child." 

"But — why,  that  is  slavery!" 

"No,  it  isn't:  over  there,  you  can  hire  a  wife  for 
a  month  or  a  year,  just  as  you  can  a  servant  here." 

"And  the  child?" 

"The  State  takes  your  sons  and  sends  them  into  the 
army;  it  even  kills  them,  without  giving  you  a  sou  for 
it.  Is  that  slavery?  Over  there  the  mother  is  at 
least  pcdd  for  the  child  that  is  taken  away  from  her. 
It  is  a  free  bargain." 

"Anyway,"  reiterated  her  mother,  "trust  my  ad- 
vice and  never  give  your  consent  to  any  such 
transaction.  You  are  happy  as  you  are:  make  an 
effort  to  keep  your  happiness." 

Poor  Monique  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  and  all 
of  that  night  in  anguish.  On  the  next  day  she  an- 
swered her  husband's  letter  in  these  terms: 

Your  last  word  has  placed  me  in  the  most  terrible  position. 
You  married  me  in  my  country,  according  to  its  customs  and 

T2401 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


laws.  I  never  imagined  then  that  a  day  could  come  when 
you  would  ask  me  of  my  own  accord  to  renounce  the  most 
fundamental  of  our  ideas  and  conventions  and  sentiments. 
It  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to  urge  the  fact  that 
I  have  had  no  children  by  you  as  an  excuse  for  asking  your 
consent  to  my  taking  a  second  husband — or  rather,  in  your 
own  phrase,  to  my  engaging  a  "little  servant"  to  serve  my 
purpose  and  be  sent  away  afterward.  The  bare  idea  of 
such  conduct,  or  misconduct,  makes  me  blush  with  shame. 
How  is  it  that  your  feelings  can  be  so  utterly  different  from 
mine? 

I  have  borne  no  children,  it  is  true.  But  is  it  so  certain 
that  the  fault  is  in  me?  I  say  "fault"  because  I,  too,  begin 
to  suffer  the  loneliness  and  sadness  of  my  childless  house. 
I  remember  now  what  Orchid  used  to  tell  me  about  the 
home  without  husband  and  child.  .  .  .  Can  it  be  that  you 
are  going  to  desert  me  after  the  five  years  of  our  marriage? 
Have  you  forgotten  all  our  happiness  together?  Are  you 
going  to  thwart  and  destroy  with  your  own  hand  all  our 
hopes  for  the  future?  We  are  still  young.  Oh,  let  us  wait 
before  taking  such  a  perilous  step! 


[241] 


XXI 

FDR  several  weeks  there  was  no  letter  from 
Ming-ni.  "It  merely  happens  that  way,"  said 
Madame  de  Rosen  soothingly.  "He  has  been 
crowded  with  overwork,  or  they  have  sent  him  on 
some  special  mission." 

"He  is  seriously  ill,  or — he  may  be  dead,"  said 
Monique. 

Madame  de  Rosen  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "The 
Chinese  Foreign  Office  would  have  informed  our 
Charge  d'Affaires  if  that  were  so,"  she  said. 

"Then  why  does  he  not  write?  He  has  repudiated 
me.  According  to  Chinese  laws,  he  can  send  me 
away  without  even  telling  me  that  he  has  decided  to 
do  it." 

"My  dear  girl,  you  are  married  according  to 
French  laws,  and  he  cannot  put  you  away  in  any 
such  cavalier  fashion.  We  have  judges." 

"If  it  came  to  a  test,  I  should  be  married  in  France, 
but  not  in  China,  because,  by  my  marriage,  I  have 
ceased  to  be  French  and  become  Chinese." 

"You  are  no  more  Chinese  than  I  am.  Because  a 
pack  of  fools  have  voted  a  law  on  a  point  about  which 
they  knew  nothing,  the  plain  facts  of  nature  are  not 
going  to  be  made  over.  Your  father's  family  was 

[242] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


French.  So  was  mine.  You  have  been  brought  up 
in  France.  You  are  French,  and  no  stupid  law  of 
nationality  can  alter  that  or  make  you  anything  dif- 
ferent." 

"But,  mother,  the  law  is  the  law,  and  a  fact  is  a 
fact!" 

"A  law  isn't  a  law  at  all,  when  it  is  against  truth 
and  our  personal  liberty  and  common  decency.  Then 
we  have  to  refuse  to  obey  it,  or  else  we  are  despicable 
cowards  and  slaves  of  the  State.  A  child,  I  tell  you, 
has  the  nationality  of  his  mother,  who  gives  him  the 
best  of  her  blood  and  first  impresses  on  his  unformed 
mind  the  background  of  her  own  education,  breeding, 
and  language.  The  mother  is  certainly  the  mother, 
and  no  mistake  about  it;  whereas  her  husband — well, 
a  man  can  never  be  materially  certain  that  he  is  the 
father  of  a  given  child.  The  most  he  can  have  is  a 
moral  certainty.  Why,  the  father  is  a  mere  passing 
butterfly,  here  today  and  there  tomorrow. — Any- 
how, you  are  French,  and  French  you  will  remain." 

"French  or  not,  I  have  had  no  word  from  him.  I 
dare  not  telegraph  to  Peking,  for  fear  of  making  a 
scandal  somehow.  Yet  I  love  him;  I  never  have  met 
and  never  shall  meet  any  one  so  devoted,  tender,  and 
steadfast." 

"His  manners,"  conceded  the  baroness,  "are  cer- 
tainly those  of  a  true  gentleman — not  in  the  least 
like  those  of  our  own  young  men,  who  only  learn 
how  to  bully  their  inferiors  and  truckle  to  their  su- 

[243] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


periors."  After  a  pause  she  added:  "You  might 
try  writing  to  that  Chinese  friend  of  yours — Orchid." 

"Yes,  but  when  should  I  get  an  answer?  Not  for 
two  months.  I  can't  bear  the  suspense. — Let  him 
have  his  second  wife,  rather  than  lose  him  altogether." 

Days  passed.  More  and  more  overwrought,  and 
still  not  daring  to  do  anything,  she  waited  feverishly. 

It  was  not  until  after  two  more  weeks  that  she  fin- 
ally received  a  long  letter  from  Ming-ni. 

Pardon  me,  0  First  Wife  [it  said],  for  having  left  you 
so  long  without  any  word  of  me. 

On  the  day  when  I  posted  my  last  letter  we  received,  my 
father  and  I,  a  telegram  announcing  that  my  mother  had 
just  had  a  grave  crisis,  and  that  she  must  see  us  before  her 
death.  There  was  not  a  minute  to  lose.  We  went  directly 
to  the  Board  for  our  passports  and  our  orders  for  horses 
at  the  Imperial  Post  stations  on  the  road.  In  an  hour  we 
were  on  our  way.  On  the  whole  journey  we  never  stopped 
from  dawn  until  late  at  night.  It  took  us  twelve  days  of 
such  galloping  to  reach  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers. 

My  mother  was  still  alive,  but  she  seemed  to  be  beyond 
hope  of  recovery.  The  doctors  said  that  she  was  obsessed 
by  an  idee  fixe  which  rendered  all  medicines  futile.  We 
found  her  on  her  bed,  propped  up  by  cushions.  In  spite 
of  the  dimness  of  the  room  and  her  own  weakness,  she  knew 
us  at  once.  Without  even  giving  us  time  for  any  greeting, 
she  pointed  to  me  and  said:  "Does  he  consent?" 

"Yes,  he  consents,"  said  my  father. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  relaxing.  "I  shall  die  happy,  in  the 
trust  that  now  my  shade  is  not  to  go  without  propitiatory 
offerings.  You  are  a  good  son,"  she  added,  "and  I  am  over- 
joyed to  see  you  again." 

I  understood  then — not  before — that  my  father  had  been 
[244] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


sent  to  Peking  expressly  to  obtain  from  me  an  assent  which 
depends  on  you  alone,  and  which  I  accordingly  ask  you  to 
ratify.  Could  I  tell  my  dying  mother  that  I  was  still  wait- 
ing for  your  answer?  Was  it  possible,  in  her  dying  con- 
dition, to  destroy  the  profound  and  obvious  satisfaction 
which  my  father's  words  had  given  her?  Even  in  Europe, 
where  there  is  little  respect  for  anything  except  money,  the 
last  moments  of  the  dying  are  sacred,  and  promises  made 
to  the  dying  are  even  kept  sometimes.  You  can  hardly 
blame  me,  I  am  sure,  for  not  having  lied  to  my  mother. 
In  spite  of  all  my  love  for  you,  if  I  had  it  to  do  over  again 
my  first  duty  would  be  to  act  as  I  did. 

But  this  was  not  the  end  of  my  ordeal.  As  soon  as  the 
first  excitement  of  our  sudden  coming  had  subsided,  my 
mother  said  to  me:  "Your  conduct  toward  Monique  proves 
that  you  are  still  as  infatuated  with  her  as  ever.  I  have 
tried  no  more,  then,  to  get  you  to  repudiate  her.  I  have 
even  realized  that  a  second  wife  would  not  be  acceptable  to 
you  or  to  her,  with  her  narrow  and  barbarous  notions.  And 
I  have  simply  bought  you  a  little  girl,  one  whom  you  can 
either  keep  or  sell,  as  pleases  you.  She  is  in  the  pink  of 
health  and  capable  of  bearing  you  well-formed  and  lusty 
children.  Her  father  was  a  scholar,  and  might  have  risen 
to  a  respectable  rank  had  he  not  been  killed,  with  all  his 
family,  during  a  bandit  raid.  This  girl  alone  escaped,  be- 
cause she  was  at  that  time  here  in  the  Palace  on  a  visit  to  a 
relative.  She  has  consented  for  a  certain  sum  to  give  over 
her  body  to  you  for  whatever  use  you  deem  it  fit.  And  she 
is  waiting  for  you  in  your  room." 

Here  again,  0  my  dear  wife,  what  was  I  to  do?  Could  I 
delay  until  your  answer  should  have  come?  Or  lie?  I 
could  not  lie  to  my  dying  mother — especially  when  I  re- 
flected that  the  girl  would  surely  be  submitted  to  a  severe 
cross-examination. 

I  have  now  told  you  everything  exactly  as  it  happened. 

[245] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


I  can  only  declare  again  to  you,  my  darling,  that  I  love 
you  faithfully,  whole-heartedly.  You  are  my  First  Wife, 
and  nothing  in  my  feeling  for  you  can  be  altered  by  the 
mere  presence  of  this  little  slave  in  the  household.  I  love 
you,  you  alone — and  so  it  shall  be  always. 

Monique  sat  in  a  daze  for  a  long  time,  the  letter 
in  her  hand.  She  did  not  know  what  to  think;  still 
less  did  she  know  what  to  do.  She  felt  that  her  hus- 
band really  did  love  her:  yet  here  was  his  open  and 
ingenuous  avowal  of  an  act  which,  in  Europe,  could 
only  have  been  taken  as  a  cynical  proof  of  his  indif- 
ference. Because  she  loved  him,  she  felt  a  bitter 
pang  of  jealousy  at  the  very  thought  of  his  action. 
None  the  less,  his  frank  and  perfectly  simple  recital, 
coupled  with  the  fact  that  he  could  so  easily  have 
suppressed  the  whole  thing,  spoke  powerfully  in 
his  favour  and  gave  the  situation  a  quite  different 
aspect. 

But  what  was  she  to  do?  It  was  no  longer  a  ques- 
tion whether  she  would  or  would  not  accept  the  second 
wife.  Events  had  snatched  this  decision  out  of  her 
hands.  Another  and  still  more  difficult  problem 
faced  her:  could  she  now  accept  the  situation,  con- 
done and  actually  approve  of  it?  Or  must  she  im- 
mediately institute  divorce  proceedings?  But  since 
she  was  no  longer  French,  the  courts  could  not  apply 
French  law  to  her  case.  They  would  have  to  take 
the  Chinese  marriage  laws  into  account;  and  under 
these,  though  she  would  undoubtedly  succeed  in  rais- 

[246] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


ing  a  pretty  enough  scandal,  she  might  very  likely  lose 
her  suit.  What  would  her  life  be  then — still  married 
to  a  husband  who  would  never  forgive  her? 

She  was  still  plunged  deep  in  reflection  when  her 
mother  came  in. 

"I  haven't  seen  you  this  afternoon,"  said  Madame 
de  Rosen.  "What  is  the  matter?  Has  something 
happened?  No  bad  news,  I  hope." 

Monique  silently  handed  over  the  letter.  The 
elder  lady  perused  it  with  evident  enough  anger, 
amazement,  and  distress.  For  once,  she  was  ser- 
iously enough  affected  to  say  nothing  but  "What  are 
you  going  to  do?" 

"What  can  I  do?"  replied  Monique  despondently. 

"For  my  part,"  said  her  mother,  "I  have  never 
heard  of  such  a  case  before.  I  have  had  a  certain  ex- 
perience of  life  and  society,  but — this  goes  beyond 
anything  I  ever  imagined." 

"There  was  nothing  to  compel  him  to  tell  me  about 
all  this." 

"It  is  true  enough  that  any  gossip  from  the  re- 
motest corner  of  China  could  hardly  reach  you  here. 
His  frankness  is  certainly  a  point  in  his  favour — 
though  it  is  no  compliment  to  his  cleverness,  if  you 
ask  me." 

"Should  you  prefer  him  to  lie  and  do  the  same 
thing  in  secret,  as  they  do  here?" 

"Well,"  answered  her  mother  with  a  hint  of  em- 
barrassment, "you  could  at  least  have  shut  your  eyes 

[247] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


to  it,  as  so  many  women  do,  and  everything  would 
have  remained  the  same  outwardly." 

"Outwardly!  But  he  loves  me!  and  I  love  him. 
And  somehow — though  I  have  written  him  to  the  con- 
trary— I  do  understand  him,  and  I  can  see  his  case 
as  I  would  my  own  if  I  had  suddenly  hired  a  man- 
servant in  order  to  have  a  child  by  him." 

"Oh!  loathsome!"  exclaimed  the  baroness.  "How 
can  you?  It  is  revolting  and  senseless  to  make  such 
a  comparison." 

"Senseless!"  echoed  Monique.  "If  every  one 
acted  according  to  sense,  logic,  justice,  nothing  would 
exist  at  all.  What  is  quite  natural  for  men  seems 
absurd  for  women,  and  vice  versa.  If  men  displayed 
in  their  dress  the  same  stupidity  and  caprice  that  we 
do,  we  should  be  heartily  ashamed  of  them — and  yet 
they  are  not  ashamed  of  us.  If  we  had  anything  to 
do  with  politics,  do  you  suppose  that  we  should  agree 
to  appoint  for  four  years,  without  imposing  any  re- 
sponsibility or  any  possible  check,  a  set  of  men  to  be 
complete  masters  of  our  lives  and  destinies?  Did 
you  ever  see  a  woman  arrange  to  turn  over  her  house 
to  her  cook  for  four  years,  without  any  possibility 
of  controlling  her  and  with  a  formal  understanding 
that  she  was  to  go  unpunished  even  if  she  burned 
down  the  whole  establishment,  or  sold  it,  or  destroyed 
and  changed  everything  in  it?  No,  it  is  not  and  never 
has  been  sense  which  rules  the  world :  it  is  custom  and 
convention." 

[248] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Well,  custom  and  convention  do  not  sanction  this 
thing  that  your  husband  has  done." 

"Here  they  don't.  But  in  the  East  they  do.  My 
husband  wants  children." 

"Children!"  fumed  the  baroness  again.  "Fecun- 
dity is  no  longer  fashionable.  It  went  out  some  time 
ago." 

"Without  children,  what  would  become  of  the 
race?" 

"There  will  always  be  enough  drunkards  and  fools 
to  keep  it  going.  If  the  modern  countries  had  fewer 
children,  the  world  would  be  a  much  more  agreeable 
place  to  live  in.  There  would  be  no  soldiers,  for  one 
thing,  and  hence  no  wars.  There  would  be  no  work- 
men, and  so  we  should  get  rid  of  these  factories  which 
poison  the  air  everywhere.  We  should  live  a  normal 
life,  as  they  did  in  the  eighteenth  century,  when  Eu- 
rope contained  fifty  millions  of  inhabitants  instead  of 
five  hundred  millions." 

"But,  mother,  you  are  just  blinded  and  embit- 
tered by  seeing  me  childless.  We  must  conform  to 
our  obligations,  and  act  throughout  for  the  best. 
What  am  I  to  do?" 

When  her  mother  left  her  at  the  end  of  the  after- 
noon, nothing  had  been  decided.  Monique's  emo- 
tional stress  carried  her  hither  and  thither,  and  she 
invariably  found  the  most  unanswerable  logic  in  de- 
fense of  her  latest  decision,  whatever  it  might  be. 
She  went  to  bed  at  last,  utterly  exhausted  and  utterly 

[249] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


desperate.  Sleep  drifted  her  away  from  herself,  still 
thinking,  suffering,  and  unable  to  see  her  path. 

And  there  came  to  her  a  dream,  in  which  she 
seemed  to  be  once  more  in  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred 
Flowers.  It  was  a  warm,  bright  summer  day.  She 
was  in  the  vast  Reception  Hall.  Beside  her  sat 
Ming-ni,  but  she  hardly  recognized  him,  for  his  hair 
was  white  and  his  face  wrinkled.  And  suddenly  she 
noticed  that  her  own  hands  were  shrivelled.  They 
were  both  seated  in  the  huge  gilded  armchairs  that 
had  been  used  at  her  Chinese  wedding.  All  at  once  it 
came  to  her  that  they  were  celebrating  its  fiftieth  an- 
niversary. 

Round  the  long  banquet  table  was  a  large  gather- 
ing of  old  and  young.  She  knew  some  of  them — 
Orchid  and  Mackensie,  her  brothers-in-law  and  their 
several  wives.  But  there  were  others  whom  she  had 
never  seen.  On  her  right,  notably,  was  a  distin- 
guished-looking man,  evidently  in  the  prime  of  his 
fortieth  year.  He  had  dark  eyes,  dark  hair,  and  he 
strikingly  resembled  some  one  she  had  known — she 
could  not  think  whom.  She  strained  her  memory. 
And  lo !  on  a  sudden  she  saw,  in  the  face  of  the  man, 
her  own  face.  He  was  her  son.  Down  the  table 
were  four  young  men,  and  with  them  one  little  girl 
with  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes;  and  all  these  smiled  at 
her. 

And  there  was  a  mighty  array  of  functionaries  in 
uniform,  of  friends  and  neighbours  as  well.  And 

[250] 


her  husband  stood  up  and  said  in  a  proud  voice: 
"On  this,  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  our  marriage,  I 
want  to  ask  all  our  friends,  the  witnesses  of  our  al- 
ready long  lives,  to  drink  a  cup  of  wine  with  me  in 
honour  of  my  First  Wife.  She  has  given  the  whole 
city  an  example  of  all  the  virtues  which  lead  to  hap- 
piness for  the  family,  success  and  honour  for  the 
children,  goodness  and  well-being  for  the  nation." 
The  Governor  of  the  City  rose  next,  amid  the  plaudits 
of  the  company,  and  said :  "It  is  my  great  pleasure 
to  inform  you  all  that,  with  the  assent  of  His  Imperial 
Majesty  (may  he  live  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
years!),  the  Board  of  Rites  has  decided,  on  the 
strength  of  my  report,  to  confer  today  on  the  Emi- 
nently Virtuous  First  Wife  a  token  of  undying 
honour."  And,  at  his  signal,  the  servants  brought 
in  with  devout  care  a  long  slab  of  marble,  with  her 
name  and  the  date  in  tiny  letters  down  in  one  corner. 
Above,  deeply  graven  in  gold,  were  the  four  ideo- 
grams: "IDEAL  VIRTUE;  PERFECT  MOTHER- 
HOOD." 


[251] 


XXII 

WHEN  Monique  awoke,  the  sun  was  high. 
The  servants  brought  her,  together  with  her 
breakfast,   a   letter  from   Orchid.     They  had  never 
quite    abandoned    their   correspondence,    these    two, 
though  it  had  suffered  some  long  interruptions. 

I  have  been  having  [said  the  letter]  some  long  and  earnest 
talks  about  you  with  my  husband — about  your  past  life  and 
your  future.  We  have  heard,  of  course,  of  the  situation  in 
which  you  and  your  husband  find  yourselves.  And  because 
we  love  you  and  know  your  heart,  we  understand  something 
of  what  you  must  be  thinking  and  feeling.  We  have  read 
over  your  last  letter;  and  I  think  it  my  duty  to  answer  you 
by  speaking  unreservedly  on  the  subject  which  means  so 
much  to  you.  You  and  I  have  shared  experiences  which, 
perhaps,  give  me  the  right  to  interfere,  even  in  a  matter  so 
delicate  as  this.  I  should  not  like  to  imitate  those  friends 
who,  when  they  are  asked  for  advice,  avail  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  to  glut  a  secret  pleasure  in  pointing  out  all  the 
mistakes  one  may  have  committed  and  all  the  faults  of  dis- 
position with  which  one  is  afflicted.  But  we  have  to  locate 
the  hidden  cause  of  our  disease  before  we  can  hope  to  cure 
it.  Now,  it  seems  to  me  that  all  your  uncertainties  and 
sufferings,  as  well  as  your  husband's  present  difficulties,  are 
the  result  of  your  failure  to  have  resolutely  abandoned,  once 
for  all,  your  Western  ideas. 

You  see,  you  have  voluntarily  undertaken  to  found  a  fam- 
ily. But  you  do  not  give  yourself  unreservedly  to  the  task, 

[252] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


and  you  allow  your  prejudices  to  stand  between  you  and 
your  goal. 

I  understand  something  of  the  effect  of  such  an  attitude, 
if  I  may  judge  by  the  mutual  misunderstanding  which  has 
sometimes  stood  between  my  husband  and  myself.  It  would 
appear  that  the  yellow  and  the  white  races  are  not  on  the 
same  plane  of  human  nature  and  desire.  The  cause  of  this 
disparity  is,  I  suppose,  that  for  more  than  two  thousand 
years  past  we  have  been  incessantly  disciplined,  modelled 
and  remodelled,  by  the  doctrine  of  Krong-foo-tse.  His 
"Great  Study,"  Ta-sio,  the  fountain-head  of  all  wisdom, 
teaches  us  that  our  worst  enemies  are  our  passions  and 
instinctive  impulses.  The  sole  means  to  attain  a  proper 
balance  and,  consequently,  happiness,  is  self-mastery.  We 
must  act,  not  according  to  our  natural  desires,  but  only  in 
order  to  further  the  enterprises  which  we  have  deliberately 
undertaken.  "If  one  wishes  to  maintain  harmony  in  the 
State,  one  must  first  learn  to  maintain  harmony  in  the  fam- 
ily. And  to  maintain  harmony  in  the  family,  one  must 
know  how  to  maintain  harmony  in  oneself."  And  he  adds: 
"What  I  mean  by  maintaining  harmony  is  acting  always 
according  to  Reason,  Justice,  and  Social  Conscience,  and 
never  listening  to  one's  passions  and  appetites." 

If  I  understand  my  husband  correctly,  this  elemental 
basis  of  all  true  education  is  completely  ignored  by  West- 
erners. They  teach  children  every  conceivable  subject  of 
knowledge,  but  they  never  teach  them  how  to  behave  toward 
their  own  passions  and  the  wild  impulses  to  which  we  are  all 
subject,  and  which  may  ruin  our  own  lives  and  those  of 
everybody  round  us.  Such  teachers  are  like  a  madman  who 
should  place  a  loaded  pistol  in  the  hand  of  a  child  without 
telling  him  that  one  bullet  from  it  is  sufficient  to  kill  a  man. 

But,  to  return  to  yourself:  I  know  from  your  father-  and 
mother-in-law  how  deeply  you  and  your  husband  love  each 
other.  You  freely  chose  to  marry  him,  and  you  have  the 

[253] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


essential  basis  of  a  happy  and  lasting  union.  Do  not  let 
your  unreasoned  impulses  darken  the  clarity  of  your  intel- 
ligence. Hold  fast  to  the  essential,  the  durable  thing;  re- 
nounce stoically  all  that  is  transient  and  of  secondary  im- 
portance. Help  your  husband  discharge  his  filial  duties. 
He  has  not  asked  you  to  do  anything  for  selfish  reasons. 
Besides,  it  is  not  a  dishonorable  or  degrading  course  which 
is  proposed.  There  is  not  even  a  question  of  accepting  an 
insult  without  reparation.  You  know  very  well  that  his  love 
for  you  will  in  no  wise  be  endangered  by  your  consent; 
that,  on  the  contrary,  it  will  be  doubled  by  his  gratitude  and 
his  respect  for  your  reasonableness  and  forbearance.  .  .  . 

Monique's  mood,  if  not  her  ideas,  had  been 
changed,  softened,  exalted,  by  her  dream  of  the  night. 
Her  mood,  enhanced  by  this  timely  letter,  now  drew 
her  ideas  into  harmony  with  itself.  She  felt  at  last, 
on  a  sudden,  that  for  the  first  time  a  generous  and 
lofty  vision  of  life's  meaning  had  begun  to  flood  her 
being.  Her  heart,  lately  so  troubled,  seemed,  some- 
how, as  clear  and  calm  as  a  lake  under  the  morning 
sun  just  after  a  tempest  of  the  night  has  passed  over 
it.  Without  the  slightest  trepidation,  without  feel- 
ing it  necessary  to  take  another  moment  for  self- 
torturing  reflection,  she  wrote  a  cablegram  to  Ming-ni, 
called  a  servant,  and  ordered  him  to  take  it  at  once 
to  the  telegraph  office.  What  it  said  was: 

You  have  acted  as  a  good  son  and  a  faithful  husband. 
Bring  back  with  you  the  mother  of  our  child. 

When  her  mother  came  that  afternoon,  she  simply 
confessed  what  she  had  done,  but  without  mention  of 

[254] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


her  dream  or  of  Orchid's  letter.  Madame  de  Rosen 
raised  her  hands  in  horror.  "My  poor  girl,  you  are 
absolutely  mad!"  she  said  as  soon  as  she  had  re- 
covered her  speech.  "You  have  condoned  your  hus- 
band's misconduct;  and  to  do  that  is  always  immoral, 
as  well  as  imprudent." 

"I  suppose  you  can't  understand  it  from  my  point 
of  view,  mother,"  replied  Monique  calmly.  "I  have 
thought  it  out,  and  I  am  certain  that  what  I  have  done 
is  for  the  best." 

"You  will  be  sorry  soon  enough,"  said  her  mother 
drily,  with  a  sage  nod.  "It  is  not  for  nothing  that 
such  conduct  is  so  strongly  condemned  by  society." 

"I  may  fail,  after  all,"  answered  Monique.  "The 
outcome  does  not  always  crown  with  success  even  ac- 
tions which  have  been  carefully  weighed  and  wisely 
planned.  But  what  I  have  done  was  the  right  thing, 
and  whatever  the  consequences  turn  out  to  be,  I  can 
bear  them  with  a  good  conscience." 

"Then  I  have  nothing  more  to  say.  You  know  that 
in  any  case  you  will  always  find  me  ready  to  help  you 
out  of  your  difficulties." 

Four  weeks  later  Monique  received  from  her  hus- 
band a  letter  which  began  with  a  salutation  unlike  any 
he  had  ever  addressed  to  her  before. 

To  the  First  Wife,  to  the  Mother  of  the  Family,  to  the 
Mistress  of  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers. 

I  have  received  your  "lightning  letter,"  and  I  have  shown 
it  to  my  mother.  She  simply  said:  "At  last  I  can  die.  My 

[255] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


duty  is  fulfilled.  I  have  given  my  husband  many  sons  and 
daughters,  but  none  would  have  been  able  to  replace  me- 
Now  the  wife  chosen  by  my  first  son  has  shown  herself  such 
as  a  true  mother  of  a  family  must  be.  I  know  her,  and  the 
difficulty  of  obtaining  her  consent  assures  me  that  she  has 
the  strength  of  character  needed  for  her  role;  it  shows,  too, 
that  she  has  mastered  herself  in  what  was  for  her  the  hardest 
of  all  tests.  Thus  she  will  know  how  to  teach  the  true  prin- 
ciples to  any  children  she  may  have,  whether  herself  or  by 
her  slaves.  And  if  my  shade  has  any  influence  in  the  Land 
under  the  Nine  Springs,  I  shall  know  no  respite  until, 
through  my  own  mediation  and  that  of  our  ancestors,  I 
have  won  from  the  Master  of  the  Book  of  Destinies  the  gift 
of  a  son  for  her." 

And  then,  after  making  sure  that  we  were  all  present,  she 
said:  "Let  her  follow  me  as  Mistress  of  the  Palace,  and  let 
each  of  you  obey  her  as  always  hitherto  you  have  obeyed 
me." 

These  words  have  filled  me  with  inexpressible  joy  and 
pride.  But  I  can  assure  you  that,  whatever  happens  here- 
after, I  shall  never  forget  that  hour,  or  that  you,  by  your 
decision,  have  claimed  my  undying  reverence  and  devotion. 
Henceforward  you  are  more  than  my  wife:  you  are  the 
mother  of  our  descendants. 

But  I  must  hurry  on. — My  father,  my  brothers,  and  all  the 
members  of  our  household  answered  my  mother :  "You  shall 
be  obeyed.  She  shall  be  the  First  Wife,  and  we  will  be  to 
her  what  we  have  always  been  to  you." 

It  almost  seemed  as  if  my  mother  had  been  waiting  for 
nothing  more  in  life  except  your  word.  She  closed  her 
eyes;  and  only  a  little  later  she  had  started  on  the  Myste- 
rious Road.  We  have  now  finished  the  "Great  Toilet"  and 
the  "Small."  The  coffin  is  closed.  Priests  of  the  various 
creeds  have  come  to  exorcise  the  evil  spirits. — In  our  ignor- 
ance of  the  laws  which  govern  life,  it  can  do  no  harm  to  use 

[256] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


all  possible  means  of  bringing  luck.  Chance  rules  our 
lives;  even  Reason  and  Justice  are  sometimes  insufficient 
to  guarantee  our  success.  If  the  traditional  observances  do 
us  no  good,  at  least  they  can  harm  nobody. 

The  solemn  funeral  will  be  celebrated  later  on — perhaps 
in  two  or  three  years,  when  an  especially  propitious  day 
comes.  You  will  have  to  be  present  for  that,  you  know. 
Pending  that  time,  the  coffin  will  be  laid  in  the  Temple 
of  the  Ancestors,  and  sacrifices  will  be  offered  regularly. 

No  duty  now  detaining  me  here,  I  shall  follow  this  mes- 
sage within  a  few  days.  My  official  work  in  China  is  sus- 
pended by  my  mourning,  as  you  know;  it  is  only  my  resi- 
dence abroad  which  could  prevent  me  from  resigning  all  my 
offices  and  honors  during  my  three  years'  mourning,  as  the 
wise  laws  of  our  country  prescribe  for  one  who  has  lost 
father  or  mother. 

Since  you  authorize  it,  I  shall  take  with  me  the  mother  of 
your  children. 

This  letter  filled  Monique  with  conflicting  emotions. 
Dominant  over  them  all  was  sheer  pleasure  in  think- 
ing that  her  consent  had  made  her  husband  so  happy. 
She  was  not  a  little  proud,  too,  to  have  been  named  as 
Mistress  of  the  Palace  by  her  mother-in-law — the  very 
woman  who  had  once  tried  every  possible  means  to 
compass  her  death.  But  at  the  same  time  Monique 
was  troubled  and  haunted  by  a  vague  anxiety.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  was  at  the  starting  point  of  a 
prodigious  journey.  She  was  leaving  behind  all  that 
had  hitherto  constituted  her  life  and  plunging  out  into 
the  unknown.  What  she  had  done  amounted,  in 
fact,  to  an  unequivocal  abandonment  of  the  last  out- 
post of  racial  prejudice,  the  one  most  inalienable  con- 

[257] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


cept  of  Western  civilization — the  creed  and  code  of 
monogamy. 

Madame  de  Rosen,  of  course,  could  by  no  effort 
curb  her  anger.  She  broke  out  incontinently  into 
threats  and  recriminations.  "How  dare  he  bring  his 
paramour  here?  I  shall  notify  the  police.  They 
shall  throw  that  creature  out  of  the  house,  and  you 
will  get  a  divorce  at  once!  At  least,  that  is  what  any 
woman  with  a  grain  of  common  sense  would  do  in 
your  place." 

"If  I  had  never  loved  my  husband,"  answered  her 
daughter  placidly,  "perhaps  I  might  make  a  pretext 
of  this.  But  I  married  him  with  my  eyes  open;  I 
voluntarily  agreed  to  follow  the  usages  of  his  nation. 
I  should  despise  myself  if  I  did  not  keep  my  part  of 
the  bargain." 

"You  will  make  yourself  the  laughing-stock  of 
Paris.  I  wonder  what  people  are  going  to  say  when 
they  hear  of  it?" 

"As  long  as  I  have  nothing  to  say,  nobody  has  the 
right  to  utter  a  single  word." 


[2581 


XXIII 

TWO  weeks  later  Monique  had  a  telegram  from 
her  husband.  He  had  landed  at  Marseilles, 
and  would  be  in  Paris  that  afternoon. 

Monique  went  to  the  station  with  her  mother,  whom 
she  besought  not  to  say  anything  whatever  about  the 
recent  matter  of  contention.  "You  can  perfectly 
well  ignore  it,"  she  reminded  Madame  de  Rosen, 
"since  it  is  so  altogether  private  a  matter." 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  say  to  her?"  asked  her 
mother  querulously.  "I  presume  you  aren't  expect- 
ing to  greet  her  as  a  sister?" 

"Oh,  mother,  don't!"  said  Monique  impatiently. 
In  spite  of  herself,  she  felt  some  qualms  now  and 
then.  "I  shall  try  to  be  fair  and  kind  to  her  through- 
out. For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  try  to  set  me  against 
her." 

They  were  walking  up  and  down  the  platform. 
The  train  was  visible  at  last.  In  the  confusion  and 
bustle  of  arriving  passengers,  it  was  difficult  for  them 
to  find  Ming-ni — the  more  so  because,  with  the  char- 
acteristic patience  of  the  East,  he  had  not  plunged 
into  the  tumultuous  crowd  at  all.  He  was  calmly 
standing  at  a  window,  waiting  for  the  porters  to  come 
for  his  luggage.  He  was  dressed  in  black  European 

[259] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


clothes,  for  he  did  not  wish  to  attract  public  atten- 
tion by  the  white  gown  and  white  head-band  of 
Chinese  mourning. 

He  greeted  Monique  with  a  tenderness  which  deeply 
moved  her,  and  there  was  a  new  look  of  worship  in 
his  eyes  that  she  had  never  seen  there  before. 

"And — she?     Where  is  she?"  she  finally  asked. 

"There,  in  the  compartment.  You  will  see  in  her, 
already,  the  visible  promise  of  your  motherhood." 
Going  to  the  door  of  the  coach,  he  called  sharply: 
"Nelumbo,  come  here  and  kow-tow  to  the  First  Wife." 

A  very  young  girl  appeared,  clad  in  a  long,  tight, 
pale  pink  jacket  and  a  mauve  skirt  of  innumerable 
pleats.  Her  large  eyes,  lethargic  and  timid,  were 
without  any  definable  expression.  Only  the  redness 
of  her  lips  gave  a  vivacious  touch  to  her  white  moon- 
face,  framed  in  jet-black  hair  adorned  with  flowers. 
She  alighted,  cautiously  setting  a  dainty  diminutive 
foot  on  the  dirty  footboard.  The  foot  was  encased  in 
a  tiny  embroidered  shoe,  the  "golden  lotus"  of  China. 
She  would  have  knelt  on  the  platform  as  she  said,  in 
a  soft  and  musical  voice:  "I  touch  my  forehead  to 
the  ground  before  the  First  Wife,  the  Mistress  of  the 
Palace,  the  mother  of  my  child."  But  Monique  has- 
tily stopped  her,  prompted  partly  by  the  fact  that 
some  few  strangers  had  turned  round  to  look  at  the 
odd  group.  "Be  welcome  in  my  house,"  she  said 
simply.  "What  is  your  age?" 

"Twice  eight,"  answered  the  girl.     She  would  not 
[260] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


say  the  number  literally,  because  she  wanted  to  hood- 
wink the  evil  spirits,  which  are  notoriously  ignorant 
of  the  simplest  elements  of  arithmetic. 

"I  trust  you  have  had  a  fairly  comfortable  trip?" 

"Everything  has  been  very  well,  owing  to  the  good 
influence  of  the  First  Wife." 

Madame  de  Rosen  could  contain  her  impatience  no 
longer.  "You  do  not  introduce  her  to  me?"  she  said, 
when  she  had  exchanged  a  few  constrained  words  of 
greeting  with  her  son-in-law.  She  stared  at  the  girl 
with  significant  curiosity. 

"One  does  not  introduce  a  slave,"  answered 
Ming-ni  inscrutably. 

The  baroness  was  about  to  make  a  tart  rejoinder, 
but,  seeing  her  daughter's  supplicating  look,  she  re- 
frained. 

They  passed  out  of  the  station.  In  the  motor-car 
they  spoke  but  little.  The  girl  gazed  indifferently 
out  of  the  window.  Ming-ni  was  smiling  at  his  wife. 
Madame  de  Rosen  was  busy  wondering  at  her  own 
anomalous  position,  asking  herself  why  she  sub- 
mitted tamely  to  such  an  outrage.  Monique  looked 
now  and  then  at  the  girl,  admiring  her  lustrous  eyes 
and  graceful  body;  envying  her,  too,  her  prospective 
motherhood.  Unconsciously,  she  was  scrutinizing 
her  husband's  attitude  to  the  other;  watching  for  a 
look  or  a  gesture  which  would  indicate  the  true  fact 
of  their  relationship,  just  as  though  she  had  not  al- 
ready had  the  proof  of  it. 

[261] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


At  the  Embassy,  when  the  servants  had  taken  their 
luggage  upstairs,  she  asked  Ming-ni :  "Where  are  we 
going  to  put  her?" 

"No  arrangement  has  been  made,  then?"  he  asked. 
"Any  room  will  do." 

"But  don't  you  remember?  With  the  present 
staff,  every  available  room  is  occupied  by  the  new 
secretaries.  We  really  have  nothing  except  our  own 
suite." 

"So  we  haven't,"  said  Ming-ni.  "These  houses  are 
so  wretchedly  small!  But  never  mind:  anything  at 
all  will  do.  There  used  to  be  a  krang  on  the  land- 
ing-stage just  outside  our  room." 

"Yes,  it  is  still  there.  But  surely  we  couldn't  put 
this  girl  there?" 

"It  will  be  quite  all  right,"  he  insisted.  "As  long 
as  she  has  a  roof  and  a  bed,  she  will  be  happy." 

On  the  second  floor  of  the  hotel,  on  the  landing 
off  which  opened  the  private  apartments  of  the  Am- 
bassador, there  was  a  Chinese  sofa  with  a  mattress 
and  hard  pillows  covered  with  red  silk.  It  was  to 
this  that  they  referred.  The  servants  brought  a  roll 
of  blankets  and  Nelumbo's  small  trunk.  They  un- 
folded and  set  up  a  large  high  screen,  which  com- 
pletely shut  off  the  end  of  the  landing  and  formed 
a  sort  of  small  room.  The  girl  sat  on  the  edge  of 
her  new  bed,  surveying  their  exertions  with  consum- 
mate indifference.  When  they  were  through,  she  un- 
rolled her  blankets  and  lay  placidly  down. 

[262] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Are  you  comfortable?"  asked  Monique.  "Is 
there  anything  you  would  like?" 

"Don't  ask  her  that,"  said  Ming-ni.  "She  shall 
have  what  she  is  given,  and  she  must  not  be  en- 
couraged to  ask  for  things.  She  had  her  dinner  just 
before  we  arrived  at  the  station.  My  servant  will 
give  her  everything  she  needs.  Let  us  go  and  talk 
over  our  own  affairs." 

It  was  literally  true  that  Nelumbo,  having  eaten, 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do.  She  could  not  read; 
and  she  had  an  inborn  hatred  of  needlework  or,  for 
that  matter,  work  of  any  sort.  What  could  she  do  to 
busy  herself?  She  looked  drowsily  round,  closed  her 
eyes,  and  went  calmly  to  sleep. 

When,  presently,  Madame  de  Rosen  left  them,  her 
curiosity  was  struggling  with  her  maternal  solicitude. 
The  perfect  simplicity  of  the  whole  transaction  had 
astonished  her.  She  could  trace  no  perceptible  cor- 
respondence between  the  details  of  this  affair  and 
those  of  the  innumerable  adulteries  which  she  had 
known  of  in  the  course  of  a  fairly  long  and  varied 
social  experience.  There  were,  for  example,  no  pas- 
sionate outbursts,  no  asseverations  of  an  undying  and 
overmastering  love  before  which  all  duties,  all  prom- 
ises, were  as  chaff  in  the  wind.  Rather,  the  whole 
affair  entered  a  claim  to  be  thought  of  as  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world.  It  even  had  a  certain 
flavour  of  patriarchal  dignity  and  grandeur,  which 
dimly  recalled  certain  portions  of  the  Old  Testament. 

[263] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


She  was  aghast  that  this  should  be  so.  She  knew 
that  the  whole  episode  was  in  flat  contravention  of 
the  rules  of  society,  and  by  consequence  utterly 
wrong.  And  yet  there  was  in  it  this  element  of  un- 
deniable genuineness.  Being  unused  to  dialectical 
analysis,  she  suffered  all  the  force  of  the  contradic- 
tion without  being  in  the  least  degree  able  to  under- 
stand its  significance.  Trained  to  accept  the  ma- 
jority verdict  on  everything,  she  now  found  herself 
in  presence  of  a  situation  on  which  she  had  never 
heard  a  single  opinion  uttered.  She  was  obliged, 
for  once  in  her  life,  to  think  for  herself — and  she  was 
incapable  of  any  such  assertion  of  character. 

As  for  Monique,  she  had  no  time  to  think  about  the 
problem  at  all.  As  soon  as  she  and  her  husband 
were  alone,  Ming-ni  knelt  down  before  her  and,  de- 
spite her  protests,  insisted  on  saluting  her  as  the  Mis- 
tress of  the  Palace.  "You  have  done  the  right  thing 
at  exactly  the  right  moment,"  he  said,  "and  at  enor- 
mous cost  to  your  own  feelings.  I  promise  you  that 
you  shall  never  regret  it.  I  have  here  for  you  the 
key  to  our  family  treasures,  of  which  from  this  mo- 
ment you  are  the  custodian." 

"But  I  had  much  rather  you  kept  it,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"It  is  your  duty.  You  know  that  Chinese  func- 
tionaries cannot  be  appointed  to  any  responsible  em- 
ployment unless  they  are  married,  so  that  their  wives 
may  be  entrusted  with  the  public  funds  at  times  when 

[264] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  officials  themselves  are  away  on  duty. — Also,  I 
have  brought  you  some  gifts  from  my  mother,  my  fa- 
ther, and  each  member  of  the  family."  Out  of  the 
trunks  which  had  come  he  drew  forth  jewels  upon 
jewels,  dresses  and  robes  of  every  colour  and  de- 
scription; and  each  article  was  of  exquisite  loveli- 
ness and  rarity. 

They  talked  long  of  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flow- 
ers, of  old  Chen,  of  Wang  and  his  gardens,  of  the 
thousand  interests  and  problems  which  Monique 
would  now  have  to  estimate  and  decide  on  her  own 
responsibility.  On  the  morrow,  the  secretaries,  who 
had  learned  of  her  new  dignity,  greeted  her  with  the 
title  proper  to  her  rank,  "Glorious  and  Brilliant 
Wife";  and  they  embarrassed  her  by  submitting  to 
her  inspection,  for  the  first  time,  all  the  Embassy  ac- 
counts. 

Engrossed  with  her  duties,  she  worked  on  for 
hours.  Then,  suddenly,  she  remembered  Nelumbo. 
Reproaching  herself  for  her  forgetfulness,  she  went 
upstairs  to  the  landing.  About  to  knock  on  the 
screen,  she  remembered  just  in  time  that  the  girl  was 
a  mere  slave.  She  pulled  aside  a  section  of  the 
screen  and  entered.  The  girl  was  reclining  and 
dreamily  eating  li-tse-trang,  or  sugared  lotus  seeds. 
On  seeing  the  First  Wife,  she  rose  and  would  have 
knelt,  but  Monique  stopped  her,  bade  her  lie  down 
again,  and  herself  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  krang. 
"Did  you  sleep  well?"  she  asked. 

[265] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"Very  well,  thanks  to  the  First  Wife,"  was  the 
answer. 

"Did  they  bring  you  your  breakfast?" 

"Oh,  yes,  the  chrai-kwan  brought  me  a  tray." 

"You  had  enough?     It  was  satisfactory?" 

"Oh,  yes,  thanks  to  the  First  Wife." 

"Because,  you  know,  in  your  condition  you  must 
be  very  careful." 

The  talk  consisted  of  a  series  of  such  questions 
and  answers.  Monique  found  herself  suddenly  at  a 
loss  for  anything  more  to  say.  After  a  few  moments 
she  withdrew. 

That  afternoon  Madame  de  Rosen  came  and  asked 
to  see  the  girl.  Monique  did  not  much  like  the  re- 
quest, but,  having  no  reason  to  refuse,  she  took  her 
mother  up.  Nelumbo  was  fast  asleep. 

"Anyhow,"  said  Madame  de  Rosen,  "she  does  not 
look   particularly   intelligent.     As    for   her   face- 
well,  she  looks  healthy  enough,  but  I  should  call  her 
ugly." 

"Not  from  the  Chinese  point  of  view,"  answered 
Monique.  "And,  though  she  seems  rather  slow- 
witted,  her  parents  were  very  intellectual  people. 
Perhaps  it  is  nothing  more  than  laziness." 

Monique  tried  again,  later,  to  talk  with  the  girl, 
but  she  never  succeeded  in  extracting  any  answers 
except  perpetual  and  obsequious  agreement. 
Ming-ni  noticed  what  she  was  doing  and  said:  "She 
is  only  a  slave.  Don't  talk  with  her.  She  is  here 

[266] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


to  give  us  children,  to  obey  your  commands,  and — 
that  is  all." 

Nelumbo  did,  in  fact,  seem  to  be  more  surprised 
than  pleased  at  these  attentions  from  Monique.  She 
had  a  dim  fear  that  the  First  Wife's  efforts  to  distract 
her  might  really  be  designed  to  seduce  her  into  doing 
some  sort  of  work,  and  she  thought  to  herself:  "I 
was  bought  to  give  them  a  child.  I  am  doing  my 
duty.  They  have  nothing  to  complain  of.  They 
can't  expect  me  to  do  anything  else." 

And,  to  the  last,  she  never  did  anything  else. 
Whenever  any  one  opened  the  screen,  there  she  al- 
ways was  on  the  krang,  sometimes  asleep,  sometimes 
sitting  cross-legged  and  slowly  chewing  her  lotus 
seeds.  Sometimes  Monique  gave  her  European  con- 
fections. These  disappeared  even  more  quickly  than 
the  li-tse-trang.  Sometimes  the  noise  of  Nelumbo's 
snoring  filled  the  stair-well,  to  the  intense  delight  of 
Madame  de  Rosen  if  she  happened  to  be  in  the  Em- 
bassy. 

The  process  of  Nelumbo's  toilet  always  remained 
an  unsolved  mystery.  She  was  dressed  day  and 
night,  as  is  the  winter  custom  in  China ;  for  the  climate 
of  Paris  seemed  to  her  extremely  cold.  Monique 
suggested  a  bath  now  and  then,  but  Ming-ni  said, 
wisely  enough,  that  inasmuch  as  it  would  have  been 
the  first  such  experience  of  her  life,  it  would  be  bet- 
ter to  postpone  it  until  after  the  birth  of  her  child. 
Monique  had  to  be  content  with  providing  fresh  un- 

[267] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


derlinen  every  day.  Even  so,  Nelumbo  did  not 
change  very  often.  Also,  Monique  saw  to  it  that  a 
toilet  table  and  accessories  were  placed  behind  the 
screen.  Some  curt  instructions,  issued  through  the 
chrai-kwan,  resulted  in  a  visible  improvement,  as  to 
cleanliness,  in  the  girl's  face  and  hands.  But  that 
was  about  all  Monique  accomplished. 

So  the  days  passed;  and  it  seemed  to  Monique 
that  she  had  assimilated  the  fact  of  polygamy.  She 
even  said  to  her  husband:  "If  this  one  does  not 
have  a  son,  we  will  have  Orchid  choose  another  for 
us,  so  that  we  shall  have  a  double  chance  to  succeed. 
Two  possibilities  are  better  than  one." 

Was  there,  in  this,  a  faint  element  of  parading  her 
courage  because,  subconsciously,  she  was  afraid? 


[268] 


XXIV 

EVENTUALLY  Monique  became  irritated  by 
the  complete  and  ostentatious  idleness  of 
Nelumbo.  There  is  nothing  so  exasperating  to 
physically  active  persons  as  the  happiness  felt  by 
lazy  persons  who  are  doing  absolutely  nothing.  To 
incomprehension  of  such  a  feeling — which,  never 
having  known  it  themselves,  they  cannot  under- 
stand— is  added  the  influence  of  a  growing  respect 
for  work  which  prevails  more  and  more  in  our  de- 
cadent civilization.  The  life  of  the  spirit  is  of  too 
high  a  plane  for  the  materialistic  politicians  and 
canny  traders  who  now  possess  all  the  wealth  and 
prestige  of  the  Western  world.  Not  that  the  life  of 
the  spirit  was  exactly  Nelumbo's  strong  point;  but 
the  hazy  day-dreams  which  floated  in  the  girl's  mind 
were  enough  to  give  her  a  basking  contentment  which 
nothing  else  could  have  given.  She  had  a  vague  no- 
tion that  Monique  would  have  liked  her  to  be  sewing 
on  baby  clothes  for  the  unborn  child.  But  she  knew 
that  nobody  was  going  to  interfere  with  her,  for  she 
bore  her  immunity  within  herself.  And  she  stuck 
to  the  letter  of  her  contract  and  did  nothing  other 
than  what  she  had  been  engaged  to  do. 

Monique's  uneasiness  may  have  been  due  partly  to 
[269] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


subconscious  dread.  Her  husband  was  incontes- 
tably  as  solicitous,  devoted,  and  tender  as  he  had  ever 
been.  But  the  bare  thought  of  his  physical  relation 
to  the  girl  persisted  in  recurring  to  her  mind,  and  al- 
ways with  a  peculiar  unpleasantness  of  suggestion. 
As  for  Ming-ni,  he  appeared  not  to  be  aware  of  his 
wife's  disquiet.  He  never  paid  the  least  attention  to 
the  slave,  and  he  spoke  only  of  the  child  that  was  to 
be. 

Perhaps  Madame  de  Rosen  had  something  to  do 
with  this  new  deflection  of  her  daughter's  mood.  She 
had  not  as  yet  fully  grasped  the  simplicity  of  the 
situation,  and  she  kept  discussing  it  with  her  friends. 
What  was  far  worse,  she  was  foolish  enough  to  keep 
harping  on  it  to  Monique.  When  she  was  not  men- 
tioning the  subject  directly,  she  was  recounting  in- 
numerable episodes  of  infidelity  and  divorce. 

"But  I  thought  you  were  supposed  to  be  a  Cath- 
olic," was  Monique's  invariable  ironic  comment;  to 
which  her  mother  would  answer:  "You  know  very 
well  that  there  are  fourteen  cases  of  nullification  of 
marriage  recognized  by  Rome.  One  always  proves 
that  one  is  in  the  class  of  one  or  another  of  them. 
Look  at  Madame  X. — and  Madame  Z. — " 

"But  they  were  not  in  love  with  their  husbands. 
That  is  why  they  stooped  to  divorce." 

"Love!"  snorted  the  elder  lady.  "Love  and  mar- 
riage very  seldom  go  together.  A  good  match  is  one 
between  two  families  of  the  same  standing,  opinions, 

[270] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


and  social  inhibitions.     One  does  not  marry  a  woman 
or  a  man:  one  marries  a  family." 

"That  is  true,"  answered  Monique.  "When  the 
two  families  do  not  agree,  the  newly  married  couple 
must  align  itself  squarely  with  one  or  the  other,  under 
penalty  of  intolerable  and  constant  bickering — I  un- 
derstand that." 

There  were  other  days  when  Madame  de  Rosen 
would  expatiate  on  the  merry  views  of  life  held  by 
the  courtiers  of  Louis  XV  and  Louis  XVI.  "Love  in 
marriage  is  purely  an  ideal  of  the  lower  classes. 
They  care  nothing  about  founding  a  family,  and  they 
have  as  many  children  as  rabbits  do.  Not  possessing 
the  resources  to  procure  enjoyable  extra-conjugal 
loves,  they  hope  to  combine  two  mutually  destructive 
things,  and  they  make  a  muddle  of  both.  Ah!  they 
knew  how  to  lead  a  jolly  life  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury." 

"But  we  aren't  in  the  eighteenth  century,"  Monique 
would  answer.  "And  there  are  other  ways  of  com- 
bining love,  children,  and  family  continuity.  Eur- 
ope is  not  the  entire  world,  you  know,  and  our  narrow 
Western  views  are  not  the  only  ones  that  human  civili- 
zation has  evolved." 

"To  be  sure:  your  polygamy — " 

"And  why  not?  Polygamy  exists  in  fact,  right 
here  in  Europe.  Why  not  give  it  the  seal  of  the  law's 
approval?  Why  not  legalize  it,  since  it  is  impos- 
sible to  uproot  it?" 

[271] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


But  as  soon  as  her  mother  was  gone,  Monique 
would  give  herself  over  to  her  previous  morbid  re- 
flections. She  loved  her  husband;  she  was  angry 
with  herself  for  not  taking  joy  in  his  happiness;  and 
she  despised  herself  for  being  like  a  host  of  common 
and  unimaginative  dullards  whose  feelings  are  com- 
pounded entirely  on  the  basis  of  the  pleasure  they  re- 
ceive and  never  on  that  of  the  happiness  which  they 
have  it  in  their  power  to  give.  But,  once  more,  she 
was  discovering  that  one's  inner  self  is  not  always 
amenable  to  logic. 

It  was  while  she  was  silently  waging  this  struggle 
with  herself  that  she  experienced  her  first  actual 
shock.  One  night  she  awoke  in  the  dark.  Every- 
thing in  the  room  was  silent.  She  did  not  even  hear 
her  husband's  light  breathing.  Still  drowsy,  she  no- 
ticed its  absence.  She  stretched  out  her  arm  to 
touch  him.  His  place  at  her  side  was  empty  and 
almost  cold.  Thoroughly  awake  now,  she  listened 
strainingly,  as  one  does  in  the  dead  of  night.  And 
suddenly  she  heard,  from  outside  her  door  on  the 
landing,  the  sound  of  voices,  hushed  laughter.  Sud- 
denly she  remembered,  and  was  flooded  with  dismay. 
There,  behind  the  screen,  was  Nelumbo. 

It  was  like  being  stabbed  in  the  heart.  She  re- 
alized all  at  once  and  with  an  overwhelming  bitter- 
ness the  full  implication  of  the  consent  which  she 
had  given.  Here  she  was,  deceived,  yet  not  deceived ; 
deserted,  yet  not  deserted;  loved  and  honoured  by 

[272] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


her  husband,  yet  caught  in  a  situation  which  was 
enough  to  drive  the  average  Western  wife  to  a  fury  of 
despair.  Her  heart  was  a  babel  of  emotions.  At 
one  moment  she  sat  up  in  bed,  on  the  point  of  spring- 
ing out  and  surprising  them  there.  She  felt  herself 
capable  of  hurling  the  girl  down  the  stair-well.  At 
another  moment,  she  remembered  only  her  promise, 
and  then  she  sank  back  again.  She  was  already  suf- 
ficiently Oriental  in  her  reactions  to  know  that,  in 
spite  of  the  crude  physical  facts,  her  husband  had 
never  ceased  to  love  her.  He  had  not  lied  to  her: 
he  was  utterly  frank,  straightforward,  ingenuous. 
Yet  she  could  not  save  herself  from  being  harassed 
and  tortured  by  this  jealousy. 

Tears  began  to  run  down  her  cheeks.  She  buried 
her  head  in  the  pillow  to  stifle  her  sobs,  and — waited. 
But  her  grief  had  been  so  devastating  that  she  lost 
memory  and  consciousness.  There  seized  her  at  last 
the  deep  sleep  which  follows  emotional  exhaustion. 
In  the  morning  her  husband  woke  her  up  with  a  caress, 
as  he  always  did.  She  smiled.  Then  the  memory  of 
last  night's  horror  came  back  to  her.  She  felt  a  wild 
impulse  to  scream  threats,  insults,  entreaties.  Again 
she  restrained  and  mastered  herself.  What,  after  all, 
was  there  to  say?  What  reproach  could  she  possibly 
address  to  him?  Was  he  not  the  most  true  and  loyal 
of  husbands?  Was  he  not  doing  his  whole  duty  to 
her? 

Throughout  the  day  she  went  mechanically  about 
[273] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


her  occupations,  numbed  and  bruised  as  if  she  had 
been  beaten.  She  tried  to  think,  but  could  not:  she 
could  only  feel.  Her  soul  was  a  battlefield  over 
which  trampled  jealousy  and  self-respect,  duty,  love, 
and  selfishness.  She  dared  not  speak  to  her  hus- 
band. What  to  do,  she  did  not  know.  She  was 
not  ready  to  proclaim  that  she  could  not  go  through 
with  her  commitment.  It  was  too  late:  the  mischief 
was  done.  She  compromised  by  promising  herself 
that  she  would  lose  no  time  about  sending  off  that 
stupid,  lazy,  fat,  good-for-nothing  girl.  .  .  .  She  felt 
certain  that  the  child  would  have  its  mother's  eyes — 
rolling,  expressionless  eyes  in  a  moonlike  face.  He 
would  be  fat,  dirty,  unintelligent.  She  hated  him  in 
advance. 

That  night,  she  feigned  extreme  tiredness  and  made 
a  point  of  staying  awake.  Ming-ni,  as  soon  as  he 
thought  she  was  unconscious,  slipped  softly  out  of 
bed  and  went  straight  to  the  landing.  Alone  in  the 
darkness,  Monique  listened  once  more  to  the  low 
voices  of  the  pair;  and  once  more  she  found  herself 
sobbing  as  if  her  heart  had  broken. 

The  days  that  followed  were  one  long  agony  of 
jealousy  and  despair.  She  had  just  strength  enough 
to  keep  her  grief  to  herself,  to  let  it  be  suspected  by 
no  one,  not  even  her  mother.  She  knew  only  too  well 
that  Madame  de  Rosen  would  nag  her  and  incite  her  to 
drastic  measures  which  might  have  a  certain  rele- 
vancy to  Western  life  and  society,  but  which  her  new 

[274] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


code  would  never  countenance.  To  her  husband  she 
remained  outwardly  the  same,  though  sometimes  it 
was  a  torture  to  submit  to  his  kisses. 

The  only  thing  she  could  not  do  was  to  continue 
her  benevolence  to  Nelumbo.  The  girl's  laziness  ex- 
asperated her  more  than  ever,  and  she  had  to  exert  all 
her  self-control  to  keep  from  striking  the  innocent  ob- 
ject of  her  jealousy.  She  spoke  to  the  girl  harshly, 
tried  to  make  her  life  as  acute  a  misery  as  Nelumbo's 
own  stolidity  permitted.  She  stinted  the  allowance 
of  li-tse-trang  and  sunflower  seeds,  and  her  remon- 
strances against  Nelumbo's  constant  idleness  and 
slackness  began  to  be  edged  with  a  biting  contempt. 

Ming-ni  noticed  these  symptoms,  and  was  very 
sorry.  But  he  knew  human,  and  especially  feminine, 
nature  well  enough  to  realize  that,  the  less  said,  the 
better.  In  two  months  more  the  child  would  be  born, 
and  then  the  mother  could  be  removed  to  a  comfort- 
able distance.  Ming-ni's  seeming  unconcern  did  not 
tend  to  soothe  his  wife's  feelings,  however.  More 
and  more  she  lost  her  self-respect,  the  mastery  of 
her  impulses.  She  even  acquired  the  habit,  utterly 
unlike  her,  of  taking  her  friends  upstairs  to  the  land- 
ing, where,  shoving  aside  the  screen,  she  would 
snatch  off  the  blanket  which  covered  the  poor  sleep- 
ing girl,  exhibit  her  blank  and  stupid  with  sleep,  and 
say  witheringly:  "Did  you  ever  see  such  a  disgust- 
ing object?"  And  her  friends,  so  prompted,  would 
laugh  and  make  more  or  less  witty  remarks  at  Nelum- 

[275] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


bo's  expense,  while  the  girl  hid  her  face  in  her  arms 
as  if  she  thought  she  were  going  to  be  struck. 

Monique  took  to  confiding  her  situation  to  all  and 
sundry,  in  the  ostensible  hope  of  getting  useful  ad- 
vice, but  really  just  in  order  to  vent  her  poisonous  and 
in-growing  rancour.  Even  the  things  which  she  had 
formerly  cared  most  for  now  merely  bored  her.  Al- 
ways meticulous  about  her  household  duties,  she  grew 
more  and  more  domineering  and  autocratic  with  the 
servants.  She  liked  to  be  alone,  and  was  often  to 
be  found  in  her  boudoir,  sitting  idle,  holding  a  book 
which  she  could  not  read,  or  beginning  to  write  a 
letter  which  she  was  likely  to  tear  up  before  it  was 
finished. 

There  came  a  day  when,  after  a  more  than  com- 
monly rasping  fit  of  anger  against  Nelumbo,  she  felt 
a  horrible  strangling  constriction  in  her  throat.  The 
next  instant  she  had  fainted  dead  away.  Half  an 
hour  later  they  found  her  there  on  the  landing,  still 
unconscious,  and  put  her  to  bed.  A  raging  fever  de- 
veloped, and  she  became  delirious.  A  doctor  whom 
they  called  declined  to  pronounce  immediately  on  the 
case.  For  several  days  Monique  was  out  of  her 
head.  Madame  de  Rosen  never  left  her  bedroom 
during  that  time.  She  changed  the  ice-pack  on  Mon- 
ique's  head  almost  incessantly,  and  would  let  no  one 
take  her  place.  Ming-ni  was  in  and  out  every  other 
minute;  he  did  not  even  go  through  the  motions  of 
doing  his  work. 

[276] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


On  the  first  evening  Madame  de  Rosen  found  her- 
self alone  with  him.  In  her  most  sardonic  tone,  she 
opened  fire  without  mercy.  "Are  you  happy  at  last? 
You  have  succeeded  in  killing  her — you,  with  your 
shameless  misconduct!  She  is  going  to  die,  and  it  is 
all  your  doing.  Are  you  satisfied?"  Ming-ni  was  so 
taken  aback  by  this  unforeseen  assault  that  he  could 
find  not  a  word  to  answer.  "Yes,  you  have  killed 
her!"  his  mother-in-law  went  on.  "But  you  shall 
suffer  for  it!  I  am  going  to  have  the  law  on  you 
for  this.  I  am  going  to  show  the  court  how  you 
played  on  her  with  your  diabolical  tricks  and  won  her 
consent;  and  I  am  going  to  exhibit  your  dirty  little 
Nelumbo.  Then  we  shall  see!" 

"Let  us  first  save  her'9  replied  Ming-ni  with  im- 
passive sadness.  "If,  by  unspeakable  misfortune, 
she  were  really  to  die,  you  might  kill  me  if  you 
chose.  I  should  not  try  to  prevent  you.  Do  you 
suppose  my  own  life  would  mean  anything  to  me 
without  her?" 

"And  yet  you  had  the  brutality  to  torture  her  as  you 
did?" 

"She  tortured  herself  with  your  fatuous  Western 
notions  of  life,"  replied  Ming-ni  sadly.  "Oh,  you 
are  all  mad,  you  Europeans." 

Madame  de  Rosen  turned  white.  For  once,  she 
was  actually  speechless  with  rage.  Ming-ni  availed 
himself  of  the  instant's  respite  by  opening  the  door 
and  slipping  silently  from  the  room. 

[277] 


XXV 

THE  fever  abated  at  last,  and  there  came  a  morn- 
ing when  Monique  asked  her  mother,  in  the 
ghost  of  a  voice:  "Why  are  you  here,  mama? 
Have  I  been  ill?" 

Ming-ni,  who  had  been  sitting  in  a  second  arm- 
chair in  the  room,  came  at  once  and  knelt  by  the  bed, 
saying  happily:  "Saved  at  last,  my  love!  You  are 
saved!" 

She  smiled  gently.     "Have  I  been  so  ill,  then?" 

"Quiet!"  answered  her  mother,  arranging  the  pil- 
lows. "You  have  been  pretty  sick.  But  it  is  all 
over  now.  You  must  have  complete  rest,  though." 

Ming-ni  stood  up  to  go,  but  Monique  clung  to  him. 
"Don't  go  away,"  she  said.  "Stay  with  me,  while 
mother  rests  a  little." 

In  the  afternoon  she  was  measurably  stronger. 
She  insisted  on  opening  the  letters  which  had  come 
during  her  illness.  Among  them  was  a  long  one  from 
Orchid. 

To  the  Glorious  and  Brilliant  Wife,  Mistress  of  the  Palace 
of  a  Hundred  Flowers  [it  began]. 

Dearest  friend,  you  have  written  to  me  several  times  lately, 
but  not  about  yourself.  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  suffering 
from  some  secret  distress.  You  must  forgive  me  for  writing 
so  freely  about  matters  so  private,  but  I  cannot  resist  the 

[278] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


conviction  that  I  understand  the  cause  of  your  torment. 
The  burning  poison  of  jealousy  runs  in  your  blood,  and  you 
cannot  bear  the  knowledge  that  your  husband  has  given  a 
part  of  himself  to  another  woman. 

This  feeling  is,  alas!  very  common.  There  are  some 
wives  who  cannot  even  bear  to  see  their  husbands  working 
or  reading  or  being  interested  in  anything  outside  their  own 
little  feminine  preoccupations  or  pleasures  or  petty  caprices. 
For  a  man,  it  would  obviously  be  better  to  be  hated  than  to 
be  loved  in  such  a  way. 

We  have  to  content  ourselves,  we  women,  with  being 
sometimes  less  than  everything  in  the  lives  of  our  men.  If 
a  man  gives  us  his  entire  and  whole-hearted  love,  if  he  is 
truthful  and  frank  with  us,  we  must  be  happy.  At  bottom, 
we  understand  this  perfectly:  we  give  a  proof  of  it  when- 
ever we  despise  a  man  weak  enough  to  be  ruled  entirely 
by  his  wife.  A  drink  in  which  there  is  too  much  sugar 
seems  very  palatable  at  first,  but  soon  we  find  it  too  sweet 
and  can  no  longer  endure  the  taste  of  it. 

The  passionate  and  exacting  sway  of  love  may,  perhaps, 
be  deliberately  sought  and  pampered  in  those  facile  and 
ephemeral  liaisons  which  are  allowed  to  concubines,  and 
tolerated  in  those  men  and  women  who  are  perpetually 
walking  under  the  arbors  of  pleasure  and  under  the  willows 
of  misconduct.  But  for  us  First  Wives,  the  end  sought  is 
quite  other.  We  are  the  associates,  the  dependable  and 
loving  friends,  the  constant  help.  We  have  not  married 
for  our  own  self-regarding,  fleshly,  or  useless  pleasures,  but 
in  order  to  partake  of  our  husbands'  success  or  failure. 
And  our  first  duty  to  him,  to  our  children,  and  to  ourselves 
is  to  sustain  and  increase  his  strength  for  the  daily  struggle; 
to  prevent  him  from  ever  forgetting  the  presence  of  the 
enemy  when  he  is  intoxicated  with  some  previous  victory; 
to  heal  his  wounds  and  hearten  him  for  battle  when  he  comes 
back  vanquished  from  an  encounter. 

[279] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Our  disinterested  love  of  our  children  gives  us  an  intuitive 
vision  of  Truth,  Right,  Justice.  We  must  influence  and 
guide  our  husband  among  the  dangers  which  he  himself 
might  fail  to  see.  We  must  protect  him,  too,  against  our- 
selves and  against  himself,  so  that  all  his  strength  may  be 
exerted  for  us  and  for  our  children. 

And  then  even,  if  Fate  has  decreed  that  our  efforts  shall 
be  in  vain,  we  feel  a  deep  and  lasting  happiness,  untinctured 
by  remorse.  For  even  those  who  respect  only  riches  and 
the  cheapest  satisfactions  have  to  bend  their  heads  before 
True  Righteousness.  Be  its  destiny  fortunate  or  calamitous, 
Righteousness  has  a  mysterious,  invincible  power  over 
which  no  other  force  whatsoever  is  victorious.  The  best 
proof  is  that,  in  order  to  succeed,  Evil  has  to  hide  its  ugly 
practises  under  a  disguise  of  Virtue  and  Truth. 

Monique  put  down  the  letter  and  pondered.  She 
remembered  the  time  when  such  a  letter  would  have 
evoked  from  her  nothing  more  than  a  skeptical  smile. 
That  was  in  the  days  when  she  still  accepted  as  great 
men  the  false  prophets  who  fill  modern  cities  with  the 
clamour  of  their  insolent  and  gross  publicity.  In  her 
soul,  washed  clean  by  the  recent  threatening  approach 
of  death,  the  dawn  of  a  new  light  illuminated  past  and 
present.  In  this  light,  her  jealousy  appeared  as  noth- 
ing but  an  ephemeral  madness.  She  looked  at  her 
husband,  in  whose  face  she  saw  nothing  but  unalter- 
able and  tender  affection;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  suddenly  ceased  to  plod  along  in  the  mud  of 
the  road  of  life  and  begun  to  soar  peacefully  through 
the  clear  azure  of  a  summer  sky. 

To  Ming-ni,  who  still  sat  by  her  bed,  she  said 
[280] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


softly:  "Will  you  not  call  in  the  mother  of  our 
child?" 

He  looked  at  her.  In  her  eyes  he  read  that  Good 
had  conquered.  He  said:  "I  thank  the  mother  of  our 
sons  and  grandsons." 

He  went  out,  to  return  a  moment  afterward  with 
Nelumbo.  She  stopped  hesitantly  and  asked  in  her 
musical  voice:  "Is  the  First  Wife  better?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Monique,  "I  am  much  better. 
And  you?  Have  you  had  everything  that  you 
needed?"  And,  as  the  young  girl  drew  nearer, 
Monique  gently  stroked  her  cheek.  "You  look  a  lit- 
tle pale,"  she  added.  Then,  to  Ming-ni:  "The 
mother  of  our  first  child  must  not  stay  on  that  land- 
ing. It  is  neither  healthful  nor  seemly.  Will  you 
tell  the  servants  to  move  all  the  furniture  out  of  my 
boudoir?  We  will  put  a  good  bed  there,  and  she 
will  be  in  more  comfortable  surroundings  for  her 
confinement.  And  she  must  go  out  in  the  motor-car 
sometimes,  and  walk  in  the  Bois-de-Boulogne.  It 
will  give  her  strength." 

"Again,  I  thank  you,"  said  Ming-ni. 

On  the  same  night  Nelumbo  was  installed  in  her 
new  room.  She  accepted  this  arrangement  as  she 
had  accepted  everything  else,  without  attaching  any 
great  importance  to  it  and  without  trying  to  under- 
stand the  motive  behind  it.  It  was  just  one  more 
fact,  and  there  an  end  of  the  matter.  The  drives  in 
the  motor-car  left  her  equally  stolid.  There  or  else- 

[281] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


where,  so  long  as  she  was  not  beaten  or  made  to  work 
and  was  given  enough  to  eat,  she  was  happy. 
Her  simple  sleeping  soul  was  not  unlike  that  of 
a  cat  which  basks  and  purrs  contentedly  on  the 
hearth. 

Time  passed  like  an  arrow.  Monique,  now  much 
stronger,  could  walk  about  the  house.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  she  had  come  back  from  a  prodigious  ab- 
sence. Everything  was  different  to  her.  The  small- 
est object  stirred  different  sensations  from  any  that 
she  remembered.  In  place  of  the  seething  torrent  of 
passion  in  her  moral  being,  it  seemed  to  her  that  a 
calm  river  of  crystal  waters  was  flowing  gently  under 
the  sunshine  of  an  Indian  summer  day.  She  was 
filled  no  longer  with  wild  and  selfish  desires,  impulses 
which  sped  her  onward  in  spite  of  her  will,  as  the  spurs 
of  the  rider  do  a  spirited  horse.  Rather,  she  was 
borne  on  as  in  a  sailing  vessel  before  a  gentle  breeze. 
A  new  sense  of  order,  harmony,  and  beauty  had  been 
born  in  her. 

To  her  mother  she  hardly  seemed  the  same  person. 
Madame  de  Rosen  no  longer  regaled  her  with  Par- 
isian chroniques  scandaleuses;  the  baroness,  some- 
how, was  not  quite  herself,  either.  Anxiety  for 
Monique's  happiness  at  first,  and  afterward  anxiety 
for  her  life,  had  revived  the  religious  impulses  of 
her  youth.  She  now  went  to  church  every  day,  and 
on  some  days  twice.  She  presently  declared  to  her 
daughter  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  be  thinking  of 

[282] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


her  eternal  salvation,  and  that  she  had  practically  de- 
cided to  retire  wholly  from  the  world  and  enter  the 
old  ladies'  convent  of  the  Avenue  Malakoff.  There 
she  would  be  in  constant  touch  with  priests  and  under 
the  best  possible  auguries  for  the  end  of  all.  Mon- 
ique  tried  to  dissuade  her,  but  in  vain. 

"You  are  now,"  said  the  baroness,  "in  a  stage  of 
life  in  which  I  can  be  of  no  more  use  to  you.  I 
might  even  be  a  hindrance.  I  do  not  understand 
you  very  well,  and  my  help  is  no  help  at  all  to  you. 
We  can  see  each  other  as  often  as  we  want  to,  and 
you  may  be  quite  at  rest  about  me,  for  I  shall  never 
be  alone,  and  I  shall  have  every  spiritual  and  ma- 
terial comfort."  Her  decision  being  irrevocable, 
she  had  all  her  furniture  moved  to  the  Embassy  and 
settled  herself  in  the  convent.  It  must  be  added  that 
she  found  there  one  satisfaction  on  which  she  had  not 
counted.  The  callers  who  came  every  day  to  see  the 
other  ladies  were  soon  introduced  to  her.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  quite  respectable  number  of  persons  who 
lived  in  the  convent,  she  gained  thus  a  varied  circle 
of  acquaintances;  and  they  gave  her  the  sole  distrac- 
tion which  seems  to  appeal  to  ladies  past  a  certain 
age — conversation  and  social  intercourse  without  the 
trouble  of  going  out  to  return  calls. 

At  the  Embassy,  the  moment  neared  for  which 
everything  had  carefully  been  got  in  readiness.  An 
attendant  nurse  compelled  Nelumbo  to  walk  regu- 
larly and  take  all  the  customary  precautions.  And 

[283] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 

then,  one  morning  before  there  was  time  even  to  call 
the  doctor,  the  child  was  born. 

It  was  a  girl. 

Nothing  is  quite  so  delightful  and  droll  as  a 
Chinese  baby.  It  has  such  serious  black  eyes,  and 
such  red  little  lips  in  such  a  round  little  noseless 
face,  and  such  irresistibly  comic  expressions  when  it 
smiles  or  cries,  that  no  one  can  resist  it. 

When  Monique  entered  the  room,  Nelumbo  took 
the  baby,  which  was  lying  beside  her,  and  presented 
it  to  her  mistress,  saying:  "Here  is  your  child,  0 
First  Wife.  Have  I  fulfilled  my  duty?" 

Monique  had  always  taken  it  for  granted  that  she 
was  going  to  feel  the  greatest  antipathy  for  the  child 
of  her  husband  by  a  stranger.  But  when  she  saw  the 
little  object — was  it  actually  holding  out  its  arms  to 
her? — she  thought  only  of  her  husband;  and  she  took 
the  little  thing  into  her  arms  as  she  would  have  taken 
the  child  of  a  beloved  brother.  "She  belongs  to  both 
of  us  now,"  said  Monique.  "You  shall  nurse  her, 
and  you  shall  stay  here." 

The  usually  expressionless  face  of  Nelumbo  was 
actually  lighted  by  a  smile  of  joy  and  gratitude. 
She  seized  Monique's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

A  new  serenity  and  happiness  reigned  in  the  house. 
Monique  grew  to  love  the  little  girl,  which  was  for 
ever  laughing  and  playing.  Nelumbo  would  let  no 
one  help  her,  and  she  was  suddenly  as  active  as  be- 
fore she  had  been  lazy. 

[284] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


Ming-ni,  of  course,  was  secretly  disappointed  not 
to  have  had  a  son.  He  even  thought  of  buying  an- 
other slave  immediately.  But  he  reconsidered  it  in 
time,  and  consoled  himself  with  the  hope  of  better 
success  in  the  not  distant  future. 


[285] 


XXVI 

THE  happiness  of  the  household  was  soon  up- 
set by  sad  news.  A  telegram  came,  inform- 
ing Ming-ni  of  the  death  of  his  father.  Old  Chen 
had  not  been  able  to  enjoy  for  very  long  the  freedom 
which  became  his  by  the  death  of  his  First  Wife. 
An  attack  of  acute  indigestion  had  taken  him  off 
within  a  few  minutes  of  the  conclusion  of  a  little 
banquet  given  to  a  group  of  choice  spirits. 

Ming-ni  could  not  think  of  remaining  out  of  his 
native  country.  The  management  of  his  fortune,  and 
also  his  new  duties  as  head  of  the  family,  compelled 
him  to  start  at  once  and  to  take  up  his  permanent 
residence  in  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers.  He 
telegraphed  to  Peking  the  news  of  his  mourning,  and 
was  authorized  to  resign  his  appointment  forthwith. 

Monique  grieved  at  having  to  leave  her  mother. 
This  was  another  of  the  painful  crises  of  her  married 
life.  She  proposed  to  take  her  mother  to  China  with 
them,  but  this  the  baroness  would  not  hear  of.  "No, 
no,  my  dearest,"  she  said,  "I  cannot  go  with  you.  It 
is  too  far,  and  I  am  too  old.  My  health  is  not  of  the 
best,  and  I  should  be  a  wretched  incumbrance  to  you 
if  I  were  to  be  sick  on  the  way.  Besides,  what  could 

[286] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


I  do  in  China?  No,  no,  I  will  stay  and  be  buried 
here  beside  your  father.  I  am  thankful  to  have  kept 
you  with  me  even  so  long  as  I  have;  I  might  have  been 
separated  from  you  long  ago." 

"But  the  journey  is  nothing  at  all,  mother:  many 
really  aged  women  have  taken  it  easily." 

"If  you  were  going  to  live  among  Europeans,  I 
might  try  it,  perhaps.  But,  'way  off  there  in  the  in- 
terior of  China,  I  should  feel  myself  lost,  even  with 
you.  Maybe  you  can  come  back  next  year  on  a 
visit.  You  say  there  is  now  a  railroad  not  far  from 
your  city." 

In  spite  of  their  mutual  promises  of  a  speedy  re- 
union, they  both  had  a  presentiment  that  they  were 
parting  for  the  last  time.  But  Monique  could  not 
stay  and  let  her  husband  go  alone.  He  would  not 
have  accepted  the  arrangement,  even  though  he  duti- 
fully proposed  it  to  his  mother-in-law. 

"No,  no,"  she  answered.  "My  dear  son-in-law, 
your  own  life  must  not  be  disarranged  that  way  by 
me.  You  have  your  duties,  and  they  are  Monique's 
duties,  too.  Unhappily,  we  cannot  always  arrange 
our  lives  just  as  we  should  like.  And  perhaps,  if  it 
were  possible,  we  should  only  make  a  terrible  muddle 
of  them,  and  render  ourselves  more  miserable  than 
we  were  before." 

When  they  started  back  to  the  Embassy,  Monique 
was  in  tears.  Her  husband  tried  to  console  her,  but 
she  said:  "You  do  not  know  what  it  means  to  have 

[287] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


a  friend  and  a  mother  in  the  same  person.  I  have 
never  had  a  thought  thaf  I  did  not  share  with  her,  and 
she  has  never  had  one  that  she  kept  from  me.  She 
is  not  at  all  well,  and  I  feel  that  I  am  never  going  to 
see  her  again." 

"Then,  my  dear,  I  will  put  off  our  departure." 
And,  without  listening  to  her  entreaties,  he  called  his 
servant  and  told  him  that  their  journey  was  postponed 
for  a  week  or  two. 

He  had  no  more  than  done  so,  and  Monique  had 
already  started  back  to  tell  her  mother,  when  he  was 
called  to  the  telephone.  The  Superior  of  the  convent, 
who  was  on  the  wire,  asked  him  to  inform  his  wife 
that  Madame  de  Rosen  had  fainted  after  her  de- 
parture. He  started  after  her  instantly,  but,  not 
finding  a  cab  at  once,  he  arrived  at  the  convent  some 
minutes  behind  her.  Madame  de  Rosen  had  rallied 
sufficiently  to  recognize  her  daughter  and  kiss  her  for 
the  last  time;  then  she  had  swooned  again.  When 
the  doctor  came,  he  could  only  say  that  it  was  the 
end. 

Monique  was  nearly  driven  mad  by  the  conviction 
that  she  had  caused  her  mother's  death.  It  took  all 
the  Mother  Superior's  gift  of  persuasiveness  and  all 
of  the  doctor's  most  emphatic  assurances  to  make  her 
recall  and  admit  that  her  mother  had  already  suf- 
fered more  than  one  seizure  of  this  same  sort,  and 
that  the  occasion  of  this  one  was  only  a  coincidence. 

[288] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


The  harrowing  details  of  the  funeral  arrangements 
so  tired  Monique  physically  that  she  had  hardly  any 
strength  left  to  expend  in  grief.  She  went  through  it 
all  in  a  dazed,  stunned  condition  which  moved  her 
husband  profoundly.  He  was  so  anxious  about  her 
that  he  now  hastened  their  departure  as  much  as  he 
could,  in  order  to  get  her  away  from  the  scene  and 
suggestion  of  her  sorrow.  They  started  within  a  few 
days.  Monique's  last  visit  to  the  cemetery  filled  her 
with  such  sadness  that  she  hardly  noticed  the  first  in- 
cidents of  the  trip — the  last  farewells  of  her  friends 
and  of  the  Embassy  staff,  the  train,  Marseilles.  It 
was  only  when  the  ship  left  her  mooring,  and  when 
the  coast  was  slowly  dissolving  into  the  blue  horizon 
of  the  sea,  that  she  realized,  with  a  sudden  impact  of 
dismay,  how  definitively  had  been  broken  the  last 
link  which  bound  her  to  the  country  of  her  childhood. 
She  was  leaving  behind  nothing,  nobody.  Hence- 
forward her  husband  must  be  all  in  all.  She  turned 
to  him  and,  resting  her  head  on  his  shoulder  in  utter 
trust,  sobbed  aloud.  But  the  bitterness  was  gone  from 
her  woe. 

As  the  regular  beating  of  the  screw  carried  them 
farther  and  farther  from  Europe,  she  began  to  think 
of  the  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers.  She  remem- 
bered, too,  her  dream.  And  suddenly  she  said  to 
her  husband  in  a  whisper:  "I  am  going  to  have  a 
son.  I  know  it." 

[289] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


"How  do  you  know,  dearest?"  he  asked,  astonished. 

She  told  him  her  vision. 

"It  was  my  mother  who  sent  it  to  you,"  he  said 
simply.  "What  you  have  dreamed  will  come  true. 
Yes,  I  know  it  will  come  true,  0  my  First  Wife,  mother 
of  my  sons  and  grandsons." 


[290] 


XXVII 

ANEW  mutuality  of  understanding  had  en- 
wrapped the  two.  Perhaps  the  atmosphere  of 
the  East  was  already  bringing  them  that  abandon, 
that  indifference  to  one's  own  destiny,  that  conviction 
that  life  is  but  a  lottery  on  whose  outcome  we  have 
no  influence,  which  we  neurotic  Europeans  term 
"fatalism" — while  we  proudly  and  fatuously  ascribe 
all  our  own  successes  to  our  virtues,  and  all  our  fail- 
ures to  bad  luck.  Each  port  recalled  to  Monique  her 
her  own  past  emotions  and  enthusiasms;  her  hopes, 
most  of  which  had  proved  illusory;  her  judgments, 
now  incomprehensible  even  to  herself.  She  felt  cer- 
tain that  she  was  leaving  Europe  for  ever,  and  with 
it  a  great  part  of  herself;  and  she  turned  back  in  her 
mind,  passing  in  review  the  long  and  lengthening 
procession  of  dead  memories. 

Monique  was  at  an  age  when  hope  has  ceased  to 
make  us  strain  our  eyes  toward  the  future;  an  age  at 
which  we  begin  to  reap  the  harvest  of  our  first  en- 
deavours; at  which  we  no  longer  count  on  grand  re- 
wards, spectacular  achievements.  The  blind  confi- 
dence of  youth  has  ceased  to  sustain  us;  we  have  more 
or  less  intimately  known  failure,  or  gone  near  to  do- 
ing so;  and  we  perceive  for  the  first  time  that  well- 

[291] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


nigh  everything  depends  on  the  luck  we  have. 
Happy  are  those  who,  besides  being  sufficiently  gifted 
from  birth  to  meet  without  quailing  all  the  exigencies 
of  their  lives,  have  always  been  abetted  by  circum- 
stance. But  a  thousand  times  happier  are  those  who, 
looking  back  on  their  past  lives,  can  survey  the  long 
line  of  their  acts  and  not  detect  among  the  white  and 
spotless  robes  of  the  good  deeds  the  grimed  and  macu- 
late dress  of  an  evil  action,  done  of  deliberate  choice 
to  secure  a  material  advantage.  In  the  symphonic 
ensemble  of  our  past,  a  false  note  jars  as  harshly  as 
in  an  orchestra — and  it  has  the  additional  bitterness 
that  it  never  ceases  to  vibrate  so  long  as  we  remember. 

Monique,  reclining  in  her  deck  chair  under  the 
awning  which  hid  the  deck  from  the  fierce  direct  rays 
of  the  sun,  absently  followed  the  play  of  flying-fishes. 
Her  body,  resting  thus  at  ease,  was  almost  as  if  non- 
existent, and  because  of  its  tenuity  her  soul  and  spirit 
were  left  uniquely  free.  In  the  peace  of  the  illimit- 
able sea,  to  an  obbligato  of  the  regular  throb  of  the 
engines,  she  reviewed  her  life,  hardly  knowing  that 
she  did  so.  And  she  was  thankful  that,  with  what- 
ever defects  of  origin  or  education,  she  had  never 
wilfully  done  any  important  thing  that  was  not  in 
harmony  with  the  new  spirit  which  animated  her. 
She  could  examine  all  her  past  actions,  even  her  past 
wishes,  with  the  indulgent  smile  of  a  mother  at  the 
frolics  of  a  beloved  child. 

Ming-ni  and  she  were  in  perfect  communion.  He 
[292] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


was  assured  of  the  advent  of  a  son,  and  happy  in  the 
sense  that  the  Unknowable  favoured  his  deepest  wish 
and  smiled  on  his  family.  He  ascribed  this  to  the 
powerful  influence  of  his  ancestors,  giving  to  these 
words  the  meaning  with  which  every  educated  person 
invests  them;  assuming,  that  is  to  say,  that  the  hidden 
and  uncontrollable  impulses  which  prompted  his  own 
views  on  all  things  were  inherited  from  the  long  line 
of  his  forebears,  stretching  back  into  the  mists  of  an- 
tiquity. The  dead  dictated  his  conduct  whether  he 
willed  it  or  no,  drove  him  forward  among  unfathom- 
able present  dangers  toward  inscrutable  future  pos- 
sibilities. 

When  they  passed  Ceylon  Monique  remembered 
with  emotion  her  former  enthusiasm  for  this  Gate  of 
Paradise.  She  saw  vividly  the  contrast  between  her 
earlier  reaction,  based  entirely  on  the  gratification  of 
a  personal  whim,  and  her  present  deeper  sentiment, 
prompted  ultimately  by  her  devotion  to  the  lot  she  had 
chosen — the  family,  the  husband,  the  child  of  that 
husband.  Again  she  could  be  thankful  that  her  past 
motives,  ,so  fickle  and  superficial,  had  not  led  her 
irrevocably  astray  or  ruined  her  life  and  her  chances 
of  future  happiness.  Desire,  which — or  so  Buddha 
taught — is  the  cause  of  all  our  torments,  had  ceased  to 
ride  her  soul  and  to  spur  her  insensately  forward. 
The  peace  of  contentment,  whether  attained  by  satis- 
faction or  by  renunciation,  had  settled  upon  her. 
After  the  plunging  and  frothing  torrents  of  her  youth, 

[2931 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


the  river  of  her  inward  life  was  to  flow  calmly  through 

the  level  plains  of  her  mature  years. 

•  ••••• 

The  Palace  of  a  Hundred  Flowers  seemed  to  her 
more  ineffably  lovely  than  ever.  Autumn  had  be- 
gun, and  the  gorgeous  seasonal  colours  had  flung  over 
every  tree  and  shrub  a  mantle  of  purple  and  splendid 
gold.  In  China,  September  is  a  second  spring  for 
the  flowers,  and  the  indescribable  clarity  of  the  air 
and  purity  of  the  light,  in  the  bracing  coolness  of  the 
mornings  and  evenings,  give  a  new  beauty  to  earth 
and  sky  and  make  bare  sentience  an  untold  delight, 
an  inexhaustible  treasury  of  new  pleasures. 

Monique  was  installed  in  the  apartments  of  the 
First  Wife.  Her  bedroom  was  large  and  uncluttered. 
The  entire  wall  next  the  garden  was  made  of  panels 
of  trellised  wood  over  which  had  been  spread  a 
translucent  paper.  When  the  panels  were  shut,  a 
diffusion  of  soft  light  filled  the  room;  yet,  since  the 
paper  was  not  transparent,  a  sense  of  absolute  and 
inviolable  privacy  caressed  her.  When  the  panels 
were  opened,  one  was  as  in  an  open  verandah  on  the 
garden,  the  light  still  softened,  however,  by  the  shade 
of  the  projecting  roof  supported  on  its  thick  lacquered 
columns.  The  walls  of  her  room  were  painted  a  pale 
green  with  gold  flowers,  and  a  thick  golden  carpet 
with  pale  green  figures  completed  the  harmony  of  an 
exquisite  colour-scheme.  The  low,  massive  chests  of 
drawers  and  the  carved  chairs  were  done  in  green 

[294] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


lacquer;  where  the  carving  was  in  high  relief  there 
were  touches  of  gold  and  vermilion.  The  vast  square 
low  bed  was  of  the  same  material — though  Monique 
had  to  replace  with  a  wire  mattress  the  boards  on 
which  her  mother-in-law  had  slept,  not  having  been 
inured  from  childhood  to  the  hard  Chinese  beds. 

The  days  passed,  happy  and  simple  as  a  flight  of 
swallows.  She  awoke  in  the  morning  and  had  all  the 
panels  raised,  in  order  that  she  might  savour  the  fine 
brilliant  haze  of  the  morning  light,  the  perfumed 
coolness  of  the  air.  She  gave  her  orders  for  the  day. 
This  first  duty  finished  and  her  toilet  completed,  she 
usually  received  a  call  from  Orchid,  whom  she  had 
rejoined  with  a  pleasure  greater  even  than  she  had 
foreseen.  Together  they  debated  the  infinity  of 
household  and  garden  problems,  the  bringing-up 
of  the  children.  They  were  often  together  until,  with 
night,  there  came  the  evening  meal. 

All  the  members  of  the  family  were  present  at  this 
— sisters,  sisters-in-law,  even  the  second  wives  of  old 
Chen.  But  in  place  of  the  constraint  of  former  years, 
there  reigned  a  trust  and  a  simple  happiness  which 
made  of  this  family  reunion  the  pleasantest  hour  of 
the  day.  To  be  invited  to  it  was  a  coveted  and  prized 
honour. 

Monique  began  in  time  to  be  cited  as  a  model  for 
the  women  of  the  city,  as  before  she  had  been  cited 
in  a  quite  different  way.  Her  indirect  influence  on 
the  general  wholesomeness  of  the  city  was  so  patent 

[295] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


that  the  Governor  sent  a  report  on  the  subject  to  his 
superiors,  as  part  of  a  plea  for  the  suggested  construc- 
tion of  a  school  for  girls  in  his  city.  This  was  a 
great  innovation.  But  the  spirit  of  the  century  had 
at  last  penetrated  even  to  this  remote  hinterland.  The 
railway,  completed  now,  brought  with  it  a  well-being 
and  a  variety  of  work  which  had  never  been  dreamed 
of  before.  The  muleteers  and  teamsters,  now  be- 
come railway  workers,  found  their  new  work  both 
lighter  and  better  paid.  Because  it  was  new,  they 
had  not  yet  had  time  to  be  wearied  by  its  monotony, 
and  they  had  not  perceived,  either,  that,  from  their 
former  state  of  free  workers  with  initiative,  they  had 
become  mere  machines  in  the  control  of  an  unknown, 
irresponsible,  and  consequently  most  dangerous  group 
of  absentee  rulers. 

Mackensie  was  now  a  very  important  personage  in 
the  province.  All  projected  roads  and  railways  were 
under  his  jurisdiction,  and  his  decisions  were  final. 
He  was  entitled  to  the  green  sedan-chair  of  high 
functionaries.  His  rank,  coupled  with  his  personal 
justice  and  integrity,  had  won  him  the  love  and  respect 
of  the  entire  population. 

Old  Wang  had  retired  from  the  active  part  of  his 
profession,  and  contented  himself  with  superintend- 
ing the  new  manager  of  the  gardens.  Also,  he  had 
undertaken  to  teach  poetry  to  his  grandchildren.  It 
was  a  touching  and  delightful  thing  to  behold  these 
lessons  of  his.  The  little  dark-haired  boys  and  girls 

[296] 


In  the  Claws  of  the  Dragon 


— there  were  two  of  each — surrounded  the  old  man, 
all  of  them  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  ground  in  some 
shady  nook  of  the  garden,  and  repeated  with  the 
proper  intonation  the  poems  which  their  grandfather 
recited  first.  Their  fresh,  clear  voices  rose  and  fell 
harmoniously  in  a  chorus  which  rejoiced  the  aged 
poet's  heart.  The  group  was  increased  presently  by 
the  children  of  Red  Peony  and  Little  Badger,  who  had 
married  not  long  after  their  master  and  mistress. 

And  so  the  days  passed,  happy,  uneventful,  and 
artless,  until  one  beautiful  afternoon  of  early  Novem- 
ber when  the  clear  sun  was  shining  peacefully  on 
golden  boughs  and  the  light  evening  breeze  was  rust- 
ling the  leaves  ever  so  gently.  On  that  afternoon 
Monique's  baby  was  born.  Ming-ni,  Orchid,  and  an 
experienced  matron  were  in  the  room.  Outside  stood 
the  gathering  crowd  of  sisters-in-law  and  other  women 
of  the  household. 

At  last  came  the  moment  when  the  matron  stood 
erect,  a  broad  smile  on  her  wrinkled  yellow  face,  and 
presented  the  child  to  its  father,  saying:  "Here,  0 
Happy  Father,  is  your  son!  Forget  not  the  herald  of 
good  news." 

"It  is  a  son!  Our  ancestors  be  thanked!"  the 
women  outside  caught  up  the  word. 

"I  knew  it,"  said  Ming-ni  simply. 

"I  knew  it,"  echoed  the  happy  mother,  holding  out 
her  hand  to  her  husband  as  he  knelt  beside  her  bed. 
"My  dream  will  come  true." 

[297] 


A    000  823  790     1 


THE 
>UUIDAY 
OKSHOP 

V.  47TH  ST. 
EKV  YORK 


